Reach For The Wind [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“And we can love and respect the extraordinary quality of stillness that even a candle can express, of how the chaos of fire is not in contradiction with the understanding of the flame.” Peter Brook, The Quality of Mercy, Reflections on Shakespeare

We walked the trail on a very breezy day. As she crouched to snap a photograph of the open seedpod I watched the tiny feather-sails flutter and strain, responding to the siren call of the wind. Two weeks ago the seedpod seemed so contained, all was in order. Held. Now it had burst. Its purpose was revealed. Success was totally reliant upon the chaotic wind to carry the seeds into the unknown future. The next generation completely dependent upon the fickle swirl of the wind.

The dance of order and chaos.

It occurs to me that we are not so different from the seedpod in our dance with order and chaos, in our attempts at trying to predict and keep-in-order our destiny. Our belief that we can somehow contain or control our future. How little we understand the forces of circumstance in shaping our path and reaffirming our need for the perception of order. It was a seeming collapse of my world, a hurricane of circumstance, that blew away what I knew as stability yet opened a pathway to a new life with Kerri.

Aren’t we currently living through an era of chaos that is blasting our nation to bits? An ugly white supremacist subterranean order has once again been unearthed and brought into the light. The seedpod of democracy has burst. The seeds of our future are ready for the launch. Aren’t we the swirling wind that will carry those seeds into the unknown future?

I encourage you to take 20 minutes and listen to an interview with Maryland’s new senate candidate, Bobby LaPin. Listen all the way through; it is the hopeful sound of democracy’s seedpod bursting, the seeds of our future reaching for the wind.

read Kerri’s blog about THE SEEDPOD


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Greet The Messenger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.” ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Lately we’ve been walking an out-and-back that takes us south along the water. The turn around point is the Southport Beach House. It is a sacred place for us; ten years ago, on a beautiful October day, we held our wedding reception there.

Although not consciously intentional, there is something essential about our near-daily walks to the beach house. As we approach our tenth anniversary, we find that we are reaching back. In reminiscing, we make contact with our origin story. We are appreciating the distance we’ve traveled, the hardships we’ve endured, the support we’ve enjoyed, and the profound changes we’ve realized.

In our time together, life has taken a hard rock to our shell and we are better for it. We are more capable of standing in fire. Try as it might, circumstance cannot pull us from center. We know how to discern substance from nonsense. We are no longer in a hurry “to get there” and are more than content “to be where we are”.

A seagull stands watch on the light post. It’s greeted us each time we’ve take the steps down to the beach on the path circumnavigating the beach house. In symbol, a seagull represents “the spirit of exploration and boundless freedom”. I like what that bodes. I have come to expect to meet this messenger on our path and why not?

I’ve had plenty of experience focusing on the hardship and bemoaning the pain. Why not now expect to meet each day the spirit of exploration? Why not assume boundless freedom? Isn’t this the very realization that now pours forth, the understanding that was once imprisoned in the hard armor that our life-pain has opened?

Take Flight on the album This Part of the Journey © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SEAGULL

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An Open Hand [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Keep something beautiful in your heart to survive difficult times and enjoy good times.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara

Several times over the past few days I’ve read or heard variations on this theme: I will not let him (them) take from me my peace.

Although we recognize the necessity of pushing back against the maga-hatred worming the heart of the nation, we also know it is more potent and powerful to walk toward a better vision. Maga is a black hole and will suck the light out of all that enter its gravitational pull.

Kerri and I are taking John O’Donohue’s advice. We are intentionally and consciously incubating something beautiful in our hearts and minds.

Right now resistance and focusing-on-the-positive seem one and the same.* Perhaps they are. Saul-the-tai-chi-master used to say, “Look beyond the opponent into the field of possibility.” Even though we are reeling by the vote for salivating corruption, even though we are disoriented by the collapse of the government’s moral center, we know that obsessing on the muck and mire will only serve to begrime our spirits and bog down our lives.

To recover balance I daily remind myself of a simple truth: overcoming the obstacle is not the goal. The circumstance-of-the-moment is not the center.

The goal is presence – a woo woo word for a very basic intention: deal with what is actually in front of you rather than wrestle with the fear of an abstraction. To be in “what is” rather than struggle to get through “what should be”. Therein lives the capacity to see all the beauty of the moment. Therein lives the capacity to see and share goodness, to magnify kindness. Choosing to live in the moment is choosing a path of heart. The only requirement is to choose where we place our focus.

It is a necessity in these dark times, more than a survival strategy it is to learn how to thrive.

I delight each time I see the message float by in my stream, “I will not surrender my peace…” Each one a mantra from someone who feels as I do; an ally in sanity. A reinforcement to stand solidly in the clear center and not get pulled into the ugly circumstance. Each one a reinforcement of another truism: peace will not abide a closed fist; it cannot be held; the best way to grow peace is to share it. To give it. To spread it far and wide. Peace always finds an open heart, it flourishes in an open hand.

*(Peace, like love, need not be soft and amorphous. Peace, like love, can be ferocious. As we are told in our mythology, it can move mountains. It is not the absence of conflict, it is what we do in the face of conflict. Peace is the light brought by everyday people in dark, dark times. Peace is the light we shine on corruption, indecency and malice.)

read Kerri’s blog about THE PATH

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Walk The Path [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

On the first day of the new year we bundled ourselves against the cold and walked our usual loop. It is our custom to go outside, no matter the weather, and visit our trail as a ritual start to the new year.

The wind was bitter. Stepping onto the trail we were surprised and perplexed. The recent snow had melted off the path yet the tread-marks of walkers-past remained. It was as if a small group of people stepped in a pan of white paint and, oblivious of their tracks, continued down the trail.

We’ve seen lots of footprints in the snow. Never the reverse, snowprints on dirt.

“This could be our metaphor for the coming year,” I said. “Everything is the opposite of what is natural. Of what is normal.”

She wrinkled her brow. “I no longer know what normal is,” her quip muffled by her scarf. Too true. We are stepping into uncharted territory. Certainly unnatural.

“Shall we?” she asked, offering her gloved hand.

“Yes. Let’s.” There is nothing to be done now, in this new year, in this unnatural circumstance, but hold hands and walk the path.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOOTPRINTS

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Ever And Anon [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Our moments of inspiration are not lost though we have no particular poem to show for them; for those experiences have left an indelible impression, and we are ever and anon reminded of them.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

This morning, like a leaf in the stream, a painting by Richard Diebenkorn flowed across my screen. I was completely taken by it. It stirred a possibility about the painting that is currently on my easel. I felt as if I was jogging beside the stream so I might study it before it disappeared into the media-confluence.

And then it was gone and I was left filled-to-the-brim with giddy inspiration.

I used to worry my muse might disappear when the circumstances of life kept me from the studio for extended periods. Over time, I’ve learned what Horatio expressed so purely: artists have “pilot lights.” The flame may reduce to a flicker but it never goes out.

“I don’t have enough colors in my paintbox,” Jim said the first time he performed King Lear. He is a world-class actor and I wonder what he might do with Lear now that life has put more colors in his paintbox. His words inspired me. I am working on a play that I started twenty years ago and put in a drawer. I had not yet lived long enough to know what I was attempting to write about. I was stumbling around in the fog and hoped that I might someday revisit it, when I had lived into a greater perspective.

The fog is still with me but I’m no longer stumbling. Instead of chasing I’m letting the play come to me. Greater perspective has taught me that inspiration is a wild thing. It will emerge like Michelangelo’s David in full form when it – or I – or both – are ready to step into the light.

WHEN THE FOG LIFTS on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY © 1997, 2000 Kerri Sherwood

WATERSHED on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FOG

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How Utterly Good [David’s blog on KS Friday]

I’ve been pondering something Horatio said during our call yesterday. “Circumstances change but that doesn’t change how you have to live.” he added, “You still have to live a good life.”

It is not a new concept. How many times have I said to groups, as if I knew what I was talking about, “You are not your circumstance.” In the school of hysterical irony, I am constantly catching myself teaching what I most need to learn. I heard in Horatio’s comment something often spoken but discerned for the first time: You still have to live a good life.

What does it mean to live a good life? What does it mean to me? To you?

In a broad sense we were discussing the many changes we’ve experienced over the past decade. Decades. Aging. Climate. Loss of loved ones. Pandemic. The politics/division of our times. Technology. A flurry of fast moving circumstance. What seemed so important a decade ago is now barely a shadow memory. Aptly, an illusion.

You still have to live a good life.

Horatio spoke of going into his studio. “Immersing in the tangible,” he said. Painty fingers. Music. Charcoal dust. The smell of coffee and conté crayons. Exiting the noise and inhabiting the now. That’s a good life. I recognize that place.

Inhabiting the now. Kerri and I walk the trail arm in arm until she spots the next photo-op. “Lookit!” she chimes, showing me her new image-capture. “Green on green,” spoken with the enthusiasm of a five year old. Our walks are immersions in the tangible. We’ve had so much rain lately, there is an explosion of green in our world. We walk slowly so we might see it. Sense it. The shapes are as extraordinary as the many shades of green.

Horatio’s comment struck an ancient chord in me.

Sitting in our stream in the mountains of Colorado, Kerri and I talked about the next phase of our lives. A intentional creation. “The Sweet Phase,” she called it. It is inaccurate to suggest that we will create The Sweet Phase as much as we will inhabit it. The tangible. The now. Just like entering the studio. We’ve already started. Our practice is to not get swept into the swirling drama of circumstance. “…that doesn’t change how you have to live.”

It’s a question of recognizing it. Regardless of the circumstance, how utterly good living life really is.

I Didn’t Know/This Part of the Journey © 1997, 2000, Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about GREEN ON GREEN

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Turtle-Slapped [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

A turtle appeared on the path at just the right moment. As I like to say, our “jammies were in a bunch” and we were about to go over the edge and fall into a dark abyss of circumstance-dissatisfaction. We rounded the bend as our discontent began spiraling out of control, and then we saw the turtle.

Everything changed in an instant.

She cooed, knelt, and stroked the turtle’s shell. Not expecting a tsunami of affection, the turtle retreated into its fortress. But after a moment, realizing that this assault was indeed loving, it peeked and then poked its head out into the light. It slowly pivoted so she might get a better angle for her photoshoot. The turtle was a patient model and didn’t seem to mind her multiple-broken-promises of “Only one more, I swear,” as she continued snapping photographs.

We admired the orange markings, outlined in black, set in the field of green. “Gorgeous,” she whispered, tracing the markings with her finger.

After an appropriate visit, we left it to return to the marsh, and continued on our way. “What were we talking about?” I asked.

“I can’t remember,” she said, her prior frustration having completely dissipated. Mine, too.

In truth, we both remembered but no longer needed to grouse about what we could not control. We probably didn’t need to spin frustration tales to begin with. Thankfully, we were turtle-slapped into the recognition that what we needed most in our dedicated-exasperation was to slow down and appreciate our walk.

The wisdom of distraction. A turtle suddenly appears on the path at just the right moment…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TURTLE

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Clean Inside And Out [David’s blog on KS Friday]

And by the grace of some unseen internal trigger, the long-awaited-often-discussed-house-cleaning-out has commenced. I have no other explanation than the time must be right.

The time is right.

In truth, I’m just beginning to understand that the external house cleaning is an extension of the internal house cleaning that has been going on for some time now. It just finally hit the surface. The bags I take to the trash, the boxes readied for the Goodwill, are extensions of that ongoing internal process.

Making space on the outside is labor intensive. It takes some sweat and muscle. Dedicated time. Making space on the inside begins with the intense heat of disruption. Discomfort. The disorientation of masks falling off, the scary peel of protective layers. Exposure. Loss and lost.

Kerri introduced me to a phrase that I at first resisted: People don’t change, they just become more of who they are. Now, I think she is spot-on with one slight adjustment: People don’t change, they just reveal more of who they are.

It turns out that I am none of the labels that I so eagerly apply to myself. I’m not a winner or loser, an artist or an educator. Those designations are either things I do or fleeting judgments about the things I do. It’s very easy to get lost in the dark forest of self-stick labels. I love what I do. Even so, the labels are not who I am.

Talking about Abe Lincoln – who knows how we got there – Horatio hit me with some of his usual uncanny insight. “His fame is a fluke but his good works are not,” he said, “We often confuse the two.” Good works are intentional. Fame is circumstantial.

As the onion peels and the layers of circumstance fall-off, I discover more center. Or, said another way, applying Kerri’s rule, I become more of who I am. Less peel. More heart.

The river keeps moving. Neither hard times or easy days are permanent, nor are they entirely one thing or the other: hard times hold easy days. Easy days invite hard reflections. In the cleaning-out, in the opening of space, there is one thing that is becoming abundantly clear: Bob Marley has it right. No matter what, “Every little thing is going to be alright.” Because it already is.

Taking Stock/Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

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Choose The Shape [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Kurt Vonnegut posited that stories have shapes that can be graphed. According to his graphs, there are only eight story shapes. His story graphs work on a horizontal axis, from Beginning to End, and a vertical axis, Good Fortune to Ill Fortune.

Stories are journeys. Life is a journey. Over the course of every journey, fortune flips. Robert McKee writes that fortune flips are central to making a well-made screen play. What looks like a gift becomes a disaster and vice-versa. Just like life.

Kerri calls this photo of a mushroom A Table For Two. It reminds her of our pop-up table. We’ve celebrated anniversary dinners at the beach around our pop-up table. We’ve had pop-up snack time in the woods. The pop-up table was a great idea that came during pandemic isolation. For me it became a visible symbol of a fortune-flip. How to bring light into a dark time? Make a special meal pop-up in any location: a beach, the woods, a park, a trail…

There are circumstance-driven fortune-flips. There are fortune-flips brought through intention. When circumstance brings ill fortune, there is no better response than to pack a special meal and celebrate the day from a surprising location. Flip the circumstance through intention. Choose the shape of the story.

Disaster strikes? “A table for two, please.”

good moments/this part of the journey © 1998 kerri sherwood

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

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Give It Shape [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Learning to draw begins – or it did for me -with seeing shapes. Cones and squares and spheres. Shape is the first illusion to acquire.

Lately, I am spending an inordinate amount of time revisiting “beginnings.” My beginnings. Our beginnings. We open bins long stashed in the basement, the musty vaults securing evidence of our passage. We dig through the artifacts and discuss what gave us shape.

Important people shaped us. Many unimportant people shaped us, too. Circumstance and serendipity chipped away the stone that now reveals who we think we are. Shape, I am learning, is as much about what we hold onto as what we determine to let go. At long last setting down a closely held burden creates inner space, shape by another name. Picking up the burden of another to help them with their load necessitates a change of shape inside and between.

I recently decided that it was time to go back to basics. I have my sketchbook close at hand. I’m paying attention to shape, both inside and out. I wonder what I have forgotten about shape and what I need to re-member. If shape, in all its permutations, is the first illusion to acquire, I suspect it is also the last illusion we learn to release.

Some themes remain incomplete. I’ve painted this series-of-shapes over and over again.

my online gallery

read Kerri’s blogpost about SHAPES

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