Bolt! [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“The caterpillar ate the dill,” she said. I laughed. It sounded like the first line in a children’s book. “No matter,” she said as she watched the caterpillar munching, “With all this rain and heat the dill has already bolted.” I raised my eyebrows. Not being up on my garden lingo, “the dill bolted” also sounded like the first line in a children’s book: the dill sprinted from the garden bench!

I thought but did not say: “I’d bolt from the room, too, if I discovered a caterpillar was gnawing on me.” Kerri puts up with enough of my random-mind-wander as it is. I’ve learned to keep some of it to myself.

Though, in my silence, I wished I’d had a pencil and paper to jot down the ideas but my hands were covered in mud. With the recent heat and rain, the weeds were eating the yard (I know! I know! Another great first line for a children’s book!) and I was waging a fruitless campaign to hold back the onslaught. No matter. Ideas come and go. I’ve let plenty of good ideas – and bad ones, too – slip by unrecorded. My muddy hands probably saved me from myself.

It’s worth mentioning that one of the many definitions of “bolt” is to “eat quickly.” To gobble or gulp. Watching the caterpillar eat I think it’s fair to suggest that it was bolting. Essentially the caterpillar and the dill both bolted and neither of them left the yard. It was a reminder to never assume to understand a single word someone else utters. Kerri might have meant that the dill was gulping rather than what I presupposed, that the dill was now dormant. I confess to looking up from my weeding to make sure that the dill was still in the pot and that the pot was on the bench.

Someday soon the bolting caterpillar will possibly fly through the yard as a Black Swallowtail butterfly. It quite literally will have bolted from one way of being into another way of being. Do not assume that you know what I mean. After all, I used the word “bolt” with clear intent to scramble the possibilities.

On the day we see the butterfly I will say to Kerri, “Hey! Look at what your dill produced!” She will give me “that” look and I will, of course, have no alternative but to make-like-dill and bolt.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATERPILLARS

likeornotshareornotsupportifyouwantcommentifyouwill.thanks.

Caterpillar Kindness [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

It seems an odd time of year to see caterpillars. I am not a caterpillar expert. I’m not even a caterpillar novice so my perception of caterpillar oddity is based on nothing. Were we at a party and the conversation swung to caterpillars, I’d express my baseless opinion with forceful conviction. “Isn’t it strange!” I’d proclaim, “Caterpillars on the trail in the fall! Who’s ever heard of such a thing!” My conviction would have the other party-goers nodding their heads in agreement. Conviction without substance would make me a man of my times.

Of course, confessing my caterpillar ignorance compelled me to consult with the great oracle Google. I do not want to be a man of my times. As it turns out, as nature would have it, as is easily found with a simple-one-second search, Woolly Bear Caterpillars are abundant in the fall. They will someday transmogrify into Isabella Tiger Moths. And, as folklore would have it, farmer’s lore, the severity of the upcoming winter might be predicted based on the color of its bands. Fuzzy black indicates a harsh winter. Abundant brown bands indicate a milder winter. This fully black fuzzy caterpillar has me dusting off my snow shovel.

There is, however, a caveat: the great oracle Google was careful to note that the caterpillar-color-winter-prediction-method is not scientifically accurate. It is not as reliable as The National Oceanic Atmospheric Administration. By-the-by, NOAA is on the cut-list of the incoming administration. Who needs science when there’s an unreliable old-farmer’s-tale-method of weather prediction!

Another Woolly Bear Caterpillar weather prediction myth is based on the direction it is traveling. If it is scootching along in a southerly direction, that indicates to old-farmer-information-less believers a severe winter. If it is wiggling its way north, then the winter is meant to be mild. I didn’t have my compass on the day that we saw this caterpillar crossing the path but I can assume by its full-black-fuzziness that it was sprinting to the south. Again, Google cautions that the caterpillar-direction-method-of-winter-severity is unreliable, not scientifically accurate.

This is the only part of this post that is verifiable: had we been on a path traveled by bicycles, Kerri would have lifted the Woolly Bear Caterpillar from the path and carried it out of harm’s way. She wants to do everything in her power to ensure that the little critter will meet its miraculous destiny and awake someday as an Isabella Tiger Moth. In this case, we watched it all the way until it reached the far side and disappeared into the fall grasses. I could tell that part of the story at a party and be absolutely certain that I was relaying accurate information. I have data. And experience. I’ve seen her caterpillar kindness with my own eyes.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CATERPILLARS

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

Take Heart! [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Look carefully at the top of this photograph and the story will become clear. There is a giant pursuing this caterpillar.

The fuzzy critter must have taken something from the giant. A golden goose or magic potion for transformation. And then, in the dead of night, made a run for it. I’m not sure how but the caterpillar climbed down the bean stalk or leapt the crevasse or…navigated whatever obstacle separates the land of giants from the land of future butterflies.

It might seem hopeless for the racing caterpillar -as is true in all worthy stories. The fuzzy hero seems doomed. The giant might in a single stride catch it and reclaim the stolen treasure.

But take heart! Carefully note that the giant is standing still! It has yet to spy the fleeing larva. Just beyond the photo-frame is a field of tall grasses! A meadow without end! A chance of escape, though not yet visible to us, is within reach!

Imagine it! The giant catches sight of the caterpillar as it rushes for the cover of the meadow. He steps, his foot thundering just behind the caterpillar, bouncing the vulnerable critter off its feet. The giant reaches! The caterpillar rolls and in a miracle of impossibility, regains its footing and in a desperate leap disappears into the grasses, wriggles into the shrubbery.

The giant howls and thrashes at the tall grasses, pulling apart the Milkweed, tearing up the Wild Carrot, to no avail. The caterpillar, against all odds, escapes.

And now that it has safely absconded with the magic potion, the golden goose, what will it do with the power of this great unknown? What possible future does it imagine this adventure will bring?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CATERPILLAR

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

Color It Vivid [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

These two beauties are Black Swallowtail butterflies in the making. Caterpillars that look as if some artist applied yellow and green paint pens, decorating their black bodies with line and dot. The pop of vibrant color drew our eyes and brought us to our knees to investigate. “Unbelievable!”

I felt the same way the day we saw the orchids at The Chicago Botanic Gardens. The shock and variance of vivid color challenged my dedication to the notion that mother earth paints exclusively in earth tones. She does not. Her palette extends from neon to neutral, her color combinations are as enthusiastic as they are subtle.

I am aware that the further I walk down this life-road, the more I see – or am able to see – the feisty mix of color calling from the hummingbird and cardinal, the caterpillar and coneflower, the sunset and sea foam. I know they’ve always been there. I’ve always appreciated them in a passing way. Now, they catch me in their color-nets and hold me captive. My eyes are willing prisoners. “Unbelievable,” is my patent sigh and I find myself grateful beyond words that I have access to a world that spins color beyond my tiny expectation, my limited belief.

read Kerri’s blogpost on COLORFUL CATERPILLARS

like. share. support. comment. thank you!

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

Sail Anew [on KS Friday]

It’s hard to know what to believe. For instance, each day I cross paths with an advertisement showing me what to do if I experience tinnitus. The ad is muted so what I see is a smiling woman yanking repeatedly on her earlobes. And, each day, I think the same thing: this has to be some trickster-ish plot to get masses of people to pull on their ears. Invisible theatre worthy of the great Augusto Boal. I’m considering jumping on the city bus, taking a center seat, and without comment, begin tugging my lobes. I’ll either clear the bus, make friends or, in these United States, most likely be shot by an armed citizen whose only answer to the unknown is to shoot it. I suppose that sounds cynical but we citizens of the U.S.A. are living proof of the adage, “If a hammer is the only tool in your toolbox, then everything looks like a nail.” If a gun is your only solution, you’ll kill a teenager who accidentally pulled in your driveway or shoot someone who mistakenly knocked on your door. We read about it everyday. Every single day.

There’s another ad I appreciate appealing to people to check-the-facts before forwarding or liking what they read. “We are awash in misinformation…” it warns. “Amen, advertisement!” I cheer, “What took you so long?” With so much mis-info-noise ringing in our ears, we either need to regularly check what we hear or smile and yank our earlobes. My theory is that yanking our lobes will occupy our fingers so we can’t like or forward info-dreck. By-the-way, the statistics on gun deaths are easy to check. No one is making up the story of neighbors killing neighbors rather than talking to them. Of course, in one horrific case, a neighbor killed his neighbors because they talked to him. Sometimes the factual stuff is so disturbing it’s better to yank on your ears than consider how out of control it’s all become. Our elected officials are certainly yanking on their ears to make our noise go away.

My hope? My fantasy? We are trying to bust out of our cocoon. A caterpillar transformed can’t know it has become a different critter until it breaks out of its hard protective shell. Escape from a cocoon is not an easy process. It looks ugly. It’s not meant to be easy. The difficult cocoon-exit is essential for the next stage of butterfly survival and thriving. An arduous rebirth is necessary for the caterpillar to fulfill its transformation. Flight, an utter impossibility prior to the protective cocoon, the next part of the story. The fulfillment of possibility beyond imagining. Maturity. Wings dry while the butterfly catches its breath following the struggle. And then, the newly-minted butterfly takes its first step off the branch, releasing the old story, and sails anew into the world. Or, sails into a new world.

A new world. People protecting each other as civilized people are meant to do. All grown up. Listening. A bag full of tools for every situation. No guns needed. No longer a necessity to yank on its ears.

taking stock/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

Kerri’s albums can be found at iTunes or streaming on Pandora or iHeart Radio

read kerri’s blogpost about BUTTERFLIES

like.share.comment. or buyusacoffee. all are appreciated

Ask Why? [on Two Artists Tuesday]

 

On a recent walk I was lost in thought and suddenly realized Kerri was no longer holding my hand. When I turned to find where she’d gone I saw the usual. Kerri crouched on the ground, phone in hand, photographing something. It is common on our daily walks for her to gasp, pull out her phone, and snap a picture or capture some small critter adventuring through its existence. She has hundreds of beautiful photographs of leaves, curious bark markings, corn stalks, seed pods, sunsets, spiders, shadows, grasses, and butterflies. Each photograph is her record of a marvel, a snapshot of a miracle. “Look at this!” she exclaims, her voice rich with awe.

Showing me her caterpillar movie, she said, “Why would anyone do that? Why would someone shoot a video of a caterpillar!” It’s an existential question.

“I will call this, “Why’d the caterpillar cross the road?”

Another existential question.

Kerri edited the final few seconds of her film. She cut the part where I warn her of an oncoming cyclist. Fearing for the safety of the caterpillar, she stopped shooting her movie and stood in the path of the cyclist, protecting the caterpillar. The irritated cyclist, unaware of why this crazed woman refused to step aside, swung wide around her.

My favorite existential question in this sea of existential questions is this: Why did the woman help the caterpillar cross the road?

 

read Kerri’s blog post on CATERPILLARS CROSSING ROADS

 

alice's restaurant, california websitebox copy

 

 

Trust [on Two Artists Tuesday]

TRUST this one copy 2

When Kerri spontaneously smacked out this design, it was a case of process/design alignment. She simply trusted where she was going. “Hmmm,” she said, and moved on.

In improvisational theatre, it’s called ‘yes, and.’ Say yes to what you are given. Deal with what is there, not what you’ve decided should be there. Spontaneity, the freedom of movement and expression, is born of the kind of trust that ‘yes, and’ engenders. In trust, just as in ‘yes, and,’ there is no resistance. Artistry is pure relationship and requires giving up the illusions of control.

The word trust always brings me to the caterpillar (metaphors permeate my noggin). In cocooning, going to mush to be reborn as something utterly brilliant and unrecognizable, there is inevitability. In emerging from the cocoon, discovering wings, stepping to the edge of the branch, and leaping for the first time, there is trust.

if you'd like to see TWO ARTISTS copy

 

read Kerri’s blog post about TRUST WHERE YOU’RE GOING

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

trust where you’re going ©️ 2016 kerri sherwood & david robinson