Moving Mountains [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

There are few artists that she admires more than Phil Vassar. He is one of the great singer-songwriters of his genre. Last week he played at the Genesse just down the road so we moved a few mountains to be there. He’s recovering from a heart attack and a stroke so he also moved a few mountains to be there. I’ve never witnessed more simple gratitude pour from a performer – for being alive, for being able to sing and play, for sharing his gifts.

The lyric went straight to her heart and she cried: dreams can grow wild born inside an American child. She cried for her own wild dreams.

She cried for the crumbling dream called The United States of America. This song, American Child, in a moment became the anthem for all that we are losing, all that her father, a WWII vet, a prisoner of war, who fought against fascists, who carried the deep psychological scars from his service through the rest of his life…all so that his children and grandchildren might live in a country where dreams can grow wild.

She cried.

Democracy is, itself, a wild dream careening toward a cliff. The White House is literally being torn apart by a man-who-would-be-king. The congress has all but abdicated its responsibility; it’s literally left-the-building. The Supreme Court regularly rules against the Constitution, literally elevating one man above the law.

Those who believe in the dream of democracy hit the streets on the day we saw Phil Vassar. It was the biggest protest in the history of our young nation. Thom Hartmann wrote: “The No Kings Day protests last weekend were breathtakingBut here’s the hard truth: that energy, that passion, that righteousness means very little if it doesn’t translate into structure and leadership. Movements that fail to coalesce around leaders and build institutions typically die in the glare of their own moral light or fail to produce results.

Wild dreams are the north star of action. The dreams of an artist become reality after hours and hours and years and years of practice and rehearsal. Specific action aimed at the manifestation of the dream; moving mountains.

Democracy is not defended by hashtags. It’s defended by hands, millions of them, building, voting, organizing, and refusing to quit when the cameras are gone.” ~ Thom Hartmann

Phil Vassar suffered a heart attack. And then a stroke. He is moving mountains because he nearly lost his dream. He’s not sitting at home fretting. He’s playing concerts. He’s writing new songs. He’s breathing new air into his almost-lost-dream.

Perhaps we will do the same.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WILD DREAMS

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The Best Way [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It’s a common misconception that in order to succeed in life it is necessary to climb over the bodies of the competition. Dog-eat-dog is among the saddest philosophies in the human canon. Not only is it a poverty mentality (there’s not enough for everyone), it’s a lie all dressed up in gold-veneer. It assumes achievement (of any kind) happens in a vacuum. No support. No privilege. No mentors. No relationship at all with circumstance. To be clear: “Every man for himself!” is a cry issued from the bridge when the ship is going down. It is the mantra of the mentally vapid and morally vacant, the desperate, the drowning. It is antithetical to thriving.

No one thrives in isolation.

The people I admire most are those who rose in life because they helped others rise. They invested in the betterment of their community because they understood that they lived in community. They understood that prosperity is something that is best created when it is created for all. My mentors understood that to suppress, undermine, exploit or demonize members of their community might bring momentary success but it inevitably fractured the foundation: all houses crumble. The best route to thriving is to make certain that the ship is solid and the course is beneficial for all on board. Taking care of others is the best way of taking care of yourself. Work hard. Be kind. Thrive.

As I write this, people across the nation are assembling for the No Kings protests. They know, as do I, that in order for a community – for a nation – to thrive it must protect the rights and values of all people, not only of its citizens. It’s a philosophy called democracy. Of the people, by the people, for the people. They are taking to the streets to push back against the authoritarian assault on our democracy by those who adhere to the dog-eat-dog philosophy otherwise known as fascism.

It’s been less than a year since the authoritarians took the reins of power and we’re already seeing the nation’s foundation crumble. When we suspend the rights of due process to immigrants, we suspend due process for all of us. When we suspend the rule of law for one man, we suspend the rule of law for all of us.

We are at the crossroads. It does my heart good to see millions and millions of people take to the streets as a peaceful community – in service to their community – to protest the outrages we now witness each day – and attempt to protect the rights of all people – all people – before they are lost, before this listing ship starts to sink, before the oligarchs, crooks and cowards on the bridge crow with delight, “Every man for himself!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE KIND

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Listen To The Plumes [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The plumes came early this year. The tall grasses are signaling to us that winter is coming sooner rather than later. 20 concurs. He insists that the almanac foretells of a long winter. I’ve not checked out the almanac for myself but am sufficiently satisfied to listen to the plumes.

Our cities are filling up with the military and ICE. They are signaling to us that a fascist winter is coming sooner rather than later. As Steve said, “Most people I talk to are now in agreement: there may not be another election, at least not one that’s legitimate.” I’ve not seen the masked militiamen myself but I recognize what they bode.

Responding to a post about my confusion, Linda recently wrote, “These are actual Nazis now, David. You have not been wrong…” She thanked me for speaking up. I remember in 2016, sitting at her kitchen island, she warned that this man in the White House was a fascist. “He’s no different than Hitler,” she said. At the time I wondered if she was being too extreme. I thought our democracy was strong. I had faith that, if pushed, the republicans would side with the Constitution. Now I know that she was like a plume, she saw the signals and was warning of the coming storm.

Our challenge now: how to meet this storm and keep our humanity intact? How do we combat this level of abhorrence, this degree of corruption – and not become the thing we hate?

read Kerri’s blog about THE PLUMES

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Jump! [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If you look closely at this grasshopper you’ll see a miracle of pattern and color. It was particularly easy to marvel at this wonder of nature because this grasshopper was HUGE. It was almost worthy of a saddle.

Grasshoppers can only move forward so they are symbolic of jumping over whatever life throws at you, jumping over big obstacles with great grasshopper-gusto and courage.

I’ve heard again and again that courage is not the absence of fear, it is what we do in the face of fear. Now is the time for all of us believers in goodness and the rule of law to evoke our inner grasshopper, to saddle up our jumpers since life has thrown in our path an abundance of masked and unmasked fearmongers.

There’s no going back, there’s no running away. Grasshopper-gusto is our only choice in the face of this fear.

Let’s call each grasshopper-ride a leap of faith – another positive aspect of grasshopper symbolism – trusting that we have the wisdom (and each other) to overcome this – or any – challenge that stands between us and the fulfillment of our great promise and our dreams.

read Kerri’s blogpost about the GRASSHOPPER

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Sharp Love [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Someone once told me that love need not be a soft thing; it can be a sword that cuts or a flower with thorns. In fact, sometimes love needs to be sharp to cut through the noise.

Recently I’ve recognized outrage as a form of sharp love. We are now, each day, inundated with images that outrage us. If you are like me, you were outraged when you saw the photograph from Chicago: a burly ICE agent zip-tying the hands of a crying toddler.

Our outrage is not only warranted, it is deeply human. Our outrage is sharp love cutting through.

Now, when I see people protesting these outrages, gathering in the streets, showing up at immigration courts to bear witness, when I see independent media calling out the falsehoods and refusing to normalize the atrocities… I see people who love the promise of democracy, people who love others – strangers – enough to show up, to stand up and to call out the disgraceful action of authority run amok.

It is the same kind of sharp love that sends firefighters running into burning buildings. It is the same fiery love that makes a soldier fight for an abstract idea, like democracy, like freedom for all. It is the same sharp love that requires us to step away from those we know and love who continue to champion the outrageous.

Speaking about the recent cowardice of corporate law firms, media organizations and universities in the face of governmental pressure, Mark Elias said that “Courage begets courage. Capitulation begets capitulation.” In the courage of ordinary citizens, people taking to the streets, people showing up for their neighbors, people who are demanding decency of their government, I am seeing sharp love. Love begets love even when – especially when – it looks like people outraged at the treatment of other people, people standing up for the rights of their fellow human beings.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ROSES

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When It’s All Said And Done [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I discarded another post this morning. Aghast at the latest lies and childish memes I wrote yet another political rant. It was harsh. It was too much. It led us into a lengthy conversation about how we might live and write in this toxic environment and yet not let the toxins poison us. How do we remain healthy while not denying the reality – the horrors – of our democracy’s collapse at the hands of those who swore to protect it?

In truth, I have not been happy with my recent posts. So many years ago I began writing for a specific audience – and myself – to make the distinction between unhealthy control and generative power. The shorthand is this: Control over/Power with.

Control is wielded over others while power is created with others. Control is self-absorbed. Power is other-focused. Control is the product of duality: us/them, black/white, winner/loser…It is oppositional. It can only lead to discord.

Power is created in a dynamic triad. It is relational. It is complementary and reciprocal. It always gives rise to harmony.

I realized in our conversation this morning that I had myself slipped into a duality. My writing has become oppositional. As our nation grows more violent and ugly by the day, my impulse has been to push back, to sound an alarm. I want to scream, “I am not that! WE are not that!”

Ronald Reagan famously said that “Government is the problem.” He was wrong. Government is neither a problem nor is it a solution (a duality). Government is a service (a triad). It is made of elected representatives in service to their constituents relative to serving the greater needs of the whole. It is dynamic. When functional and fair, it is complementary. Symbiotic.

Government becomes dysfunctional when it tries to run like a business and pretends it is subject to a bottom line (profit or loss). It is death for any service organization that forgets its reason-for-being and attempts to be something that it is not: government is not a business. It’s a no-brainer: privatization of government services places the emphasis on the bottom line – not on serving the people. For instance, privatize prisons and the bottom line of profitability will require the creation of more and more prisoners. Businesses need to grow. The same levers are true when applied to healthcare (as we are seeing) or education.

I believe most of the people of this nation are well intended. I believe the endgame of this administration is control so it must necessarily define everything as Us-and-Them. Demagogues need to demonize vulnerable communities and blame them for the ills of the nation. Demagogues need enemies-from-within since pitting us against each other is the route to ultimate control over…Demagogues need a Them.

People who are not steeped in blaming others for their pain are more likely to take responsibility for their destiny – which means they seek opportunity – which means that they are more apt the reach out to help and for help. Opportunity is a triad. Blame is a duality.

You might rightly ask me, “How on earth could a prompt featuring Sesame Street characters lead to a post so toxic that you had to toss it?” The answer is simple: in a control strategy like the one raging across our nation, in a forced duality designed to appear as angels and devils, good guys and bad guys, the bad guys will always get the focus. That’s the point of a control game: to see bad guys everywhere. To become reactive, suspicious, and angry. To reduce an otherwise complex, diverse thriving nation into a simplistic monotone. We are angels. They are devils. Happy and sad, grouchy and glad.

As someone once said to me, “It’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

I drank the poison. I’m so glad that our conversation this morning opened my eyes and left me asking, “How do I not bury my head in the sand but deal with the reality and still remain healthy?”

Triads, baby. Focus on the dynamic relationships and set about creating some real power with others. When it’s all said and done isn’t that the point of a democracy?

read Kerri’s blogpost about SESAME STREET

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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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The Right Season [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The color of petals at the end of the season. An earthier shade of yellow made more vibrant relative to the purple-black. A kind of beauty that’s possible only in the right season.

I’ve been noodling on a composition-idea for years. Drawings of the theme pock my sketchbooks. I’ve started and erased canvases dozens of times. I don’t know why I’ve been so fixated on it for so long, though now it seems like it was prophetic. The time was not right until now. Polynices and Eteocles. The sons of Oedipus. As the story goes, after Oedipus abdicates his throne, his sons go to war for control of the kingdom. In their lust for power, they kill each other. Both lose. All lose.

How did we get here? Democrats and Republicans. Brothers, forgetting that they are servants of the people, go to war for power over the republic. Both lose. All lose.

It’s the right time to paint this painting. A kind of beauty, if you can call it that, possible only in the right season.

read Kerri’s blogpost about AUTUMN YELLOW

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A Resurgence [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

In a surprise move, the mint-gone-fallow has made a resurgence – just in time for the latest batch of sun tea. It is a sign of the season that Kerri had to chase the sun, moving the tea jug a few times from the fast approaching shadows.

I wrote a post yesterday and tried to stay away from current events. I was mostly successful though I felt remiss all day. It was as though I was ignoring the most important thing. And, I was. A few years ago a car caught fire in our elderly neighbor’s driveway. Even though I was in the middle of a zoom work call, I ran downstairs and across the street and pounded on her door. She didn’t want to leave her house until I explained the fire was near the gas line to her home. My post yesterday felt like I was turning my back on the driveway fire.

A few times I’ve heard others say, “There’s nothing we can do.”

I’ve asked the same question more than a few times myself: but, what can we do?

The corporate news seems hellbent on normalizing the monstrous. I wonder why some reporter hasn’t asked Mike Johnson why he’s being derelict in his duty to impeach a president who’s regularly declaring war on the cities of this country, who is using the justice department to prosecute people he doesn’t like. The unhinged speech at the UN would have been enough to evoke the 25th amendment for any past president. Are you seeing footage of the protests happening all around this nation? Neither am I.

Someone asked Mark Elias if we were crossing the river into authoritarianism and he responded that we crossed that river a long time ago. “Our shoes are already dry,” he said.

The fire is raging near the gas line of the national house. The very least we could do is care enough to bang on doors to wake our neighbors. Democracy is not dead – not yet. If we act, if we wake up a few neighbors, who knows, there might still be a resurgence.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MINT

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It’s Only Natural [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

This is a photograph of diversity: thriving tomato plants, basil, rosemary, cilantro, parsley, peppers, and autumn clematis. Look closer and you will spot bees, caterpillars and garden spiders. The chipmunk trail runs directly behind the bench. It is a tale of interconnectivity. Biodiversity is nature’s secret of success. Symbiotic relationships make the garden flourish.

Monoculture, on the other hand, all but guarantees a system’s collapse. It is true in nature. It is true of us as well; as human beings have learned again and again when soiling the nest, we are not separate from nature. We are not above it all. We are one thin ozone away from annihilation.

The word “symbiotic” comes from the Greek word for “living together.” Our democratic experiment is a test of human cultural symbiosis. For those of us who value actual history over made-up dross, it is undeniable that innovation has always thrived at the crossroads of cultures and the USA is an intentional crossroads.

White supremacy has been an ugly thorn in our democratic saddle since the nation’s inception but thankfully, until now, has never held the reins of power. As we watch the ICE horror story of racial profiling – astonishingly permitted by the Supreme Court, the assault on DEI, the erasure of people of color from our history, the vilification of Democrats (the party of diversity), we are witness to the insane attempt to force a monoculture into existence. And, as the insane – and inane – attempt at whitewashing our very colorful nation progresses, we step ever closer to our system’s collapse.

White fragility is at the epicenter of white supremacy. It claims to be a master race but fundamentally fears looking at its face in the mirror. It flees criticism. It touts being atop a pyramid built upon the labor and innovation of everyone else. It purports to represent the average citizen while embracing the economics of oligarchy (neoliberalism) and the politics of division. It knows how to pillage and rape and rig the game but understands almost nothing of building true strength, power, community and unity. It doesn’t have the first idea of the reality of symbiosis; it swirls in the fantasy-strut of mythical cowboy independence.

It is not a mystery that our democratic garden is in danger of dying. Perhaps, if we survive this race to destruction, we will at last be able to look in the mirror, see-embrace-and-deal with our full history. We will insist on building our home on the truth. All of it. Perhaps we will rise from the ashes without the idiotic idea that any race is superior to any other and truly, fully embrace the beating heart of our democratic union: that all people are created equal, that all people are protected equally under the law, that it is our experiment in diversity that makes – and has made – this nation great all along.

Symbiosis. Diversity. The same relationships that make our garden thrive will make our nation thrive. It’s only natural.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GARDEN BENCH

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