Step Into The Light [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The fear of speaking in public is consistently ranked number one above the fear of death. For the Epstein survivors, the two fears merge into one: for years they feared they would be harmed if they spoke out. Their fear is not unfounded. The most powerful men (people) in the world have conspired for decades to keep them silent. They still are. So, imagine the courage it has taken for them to stand in public and speak.

It is ironic that the entire Republican party, fearful of the light of truth, continue to believe that their silence-in-lock-step is strength. Although they feign support for the release of the Epstein files and pretend concern for the over-one-thousand victims, although they vomit words and words and more words… the noise they make is nothing more than cover for their complicity. It is loud silence. To misquote Shakespeare, Methinks thou doth protest too much.

Audre Lorde wrote, “Your silence will not protect you.” It is a truth that the Epstein survivors came to understand, a driving force behind their courage to step together into the public light and say, “This happened. It was wrong. It matters.” (Tarana Burke, Unbound)

Just as the survivors came to recognize that silence is not strength, we can only hope that the Republican party, the DOJ and the FBI soon arrive at the same conclusion: silence will not protect you. Obfuscating will not spare you. Silence, in this case, is nothing more or less than collusion with the perpetrators. Conspiracy inevitably arrives at a reckoning.

So, to the increasingly spine-free members, the sad remnants of the once Grand Old Party, we hope some among you address the elephant in the room, break the silence and find the courage to demand full disclosure of the files. Step into the light with the survivors. No matter how emphatic the noise you make, no matter how excessive the denial or empty declarations of concern you bellow, it might be prudent to arrive at the same conclusion as did the Epstein survivors: silence will no longer protect you.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SILENCE AND VOICE

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No Space. No Time. [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Our saturday-morning-smack-dab-cartoon was about feeling wistful in the fall. We very intentionally prompted something non-political, non-news-of-the-day-ish, so we might give our hearts and minds a break from railing against the incessant assault on our democratic way of life. And then I read something that deeply upset me. Instead of writing about wistfulness, I wrote about our national incapacity of dealing with the truth.

And then, at the end of my post, I wrote an apology for once again shaking my metaphoric fists and railing at the lies.

And then, I erased my apology. I did not want to lie. In truth, I was not sorry for railing at the lies and misinformation and abuse of the public trust. I call myself an artist and the very epicenter of that role is to hold a mirror up to my community. Sometimes the image in the mirror is ugly.

We were walking on the Des Plaines river trail, just north of Chicago, when two fighter jets ripped across the sky just above the tree line. The earth shook. It was the same day that the authoritarian wanna-be, in a meme no less…, declared war on Chicago. I made the assumption that the fighter jets were an opening salvo, a demonstration of power by a weak little man meant to shake the populace.

“Can you believe it?” she asked.

Isn’t it sad that my first assumption was that the president of the united states sent war planes over the region to startle the populace? Isn’t it sad that, in these times, even though my assumption was wrong, it was not an outlandish proposition, not a sci-fi-speculation, but actually within the realm of possibility?

Many of her recent photographs capture fading flowers. I am drawn to them. The brittle shapes. The muting colors. Life energy pulling away from the blossom and retreating to the root to rest and re-energize. It produces a different kind of beauty.

It is this waning beauty, this retreat into the root that has always evoked my wistfulness. I realized that this autumn I will probably not feel my usual wistfulness. The yearning of fall is made delicious because of the promise of spring emerging from dark winter. Wistfulness is letting go to open space for renewal. I realized, watching the fighter jets, aghast that a president would resort to such a childish meme to declare his ugliest of intentions, to turn the military on its citizens, that I do not know if our democratic nation will be here in the spring.

There is no space for wistfulness. There is no time for apologies. There is no longer any doubt that a fascist dark winter is descending. We are fools to think that it will lead to a democratic spring.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WANING FLOWERS

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A New, Unique Personality [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

It really does not take much to transform a room. New furniture, accent walls or refreshed paint, area rugs…are all viable options. However, none of these work as well or as effortlessly as two googly eyes stuck on the wall. Try it. Your space will immediately have a new, unique personality. It will have an undeniable focal point. It will immediately fill guests with questions. It will, just like your conscience, look back at you. You will wonder what your new room reveals about your personality. You will catch yourself pondering what your room is thinking. Someday, inevitably, you will find yourself talking to your wall.

All of this transformation with the simple addition of two dime store googly eyes.

Keep in mind that three eyes are not better than two. One eye will confuse or irritate rather than illuminate. Eyes on every wall will cancel the magic. If personification is the goal, then two eyes are requisite. No more. No less.

It takes very little to personify, to project human qualities and traits onto – into – something as abstract as a wall. It’s why we find deep comfort in teddy bears or reach for the wisdom of the man in the moon. They look back at us. We endow them with compassion or quietly listen to the messages brought to us by the wind.

Conversely, it takes very little to dehumanize a human being. As easily as we assign humanity to objects we just as easily deny humanity to people. We make them objects. It’s easier to scoop them off the streets and put them into camps if we objectify them, if we downgrade their humanity. If we blame them for what ails us.

It’s simple. All we need do is project onto them our cruelty. Keep in mind, to be successful dehumanizers, it’s especially necessary to avoid opening your eyes. Opening your eyes will immediately fill you with questions about yourself. It will ignite your conscience; you will see “their” eyes looking back at you. You will wonder what your projection onto “them” reveals about you.

It really doesn’t take much to transform a culture. All you need do is close your eyes. It is just as effective to look the other way. It will serve to stifle questions especially the self-reflective variety. Averting or closing the eyes is especially useful when it is necessary to deny the obvious or to endow fiction with substance or abdicate personal responsibility. Choosing blindness you will become an easy mark, effortlessly misled.

All of this transformation with the simple condition of closing the eyes.

Rest assured, in the absence of sight, your community will have a new, unique personality.

read Kerri’s blogpost about EYES

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Embrace The Mix [on Merely A Thought Monday]

mirepoix: a mixture of sautéed chopped vegetables used in sauces.

mélange: a mixture; a medley.

“The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.” ~ Rainier Maria Rilke

If Rainier were here right now I’d tell him to shut up. Who wants a buzz-kill poet spilling simple truth all over an otherwise good start to the day? The least he could do is wait until I’ve finished my coffee.

Yesterday was harsh. Well, okay, it was also good. And, okay, okay…sometimes great. I woke up stuck under a dark cloud. If I drew myself as a cartoon I’d have a raincloud pouring rain over my head in every panel. Well, until we took a long walk in the cold. My fingers started to sting. For reasons I can’t explain, stinging fingers made us laugh and laughter made the cartoon rain stop. The cartoon cloud was still there though the weather report improved. And then there was the 10pm concert with Barker. What a treat! We watched until the streaming was interrupted at 1:20am, but by that time I was thrilled and filled with music and with no hint of cloud-cover.

When we awoke this morning with a too-late-night-hang-over, Kerri called us, “Dirty stay-ups.”

“What’s a dirty stay-up?” I exclaimed (okay, I was too tired to exclaim. It was more of a croak or whine but that’s not the point).

“Us,” was her one-word answer that convinced me I’d better get some coffee going or it was going to be a day of one word answers.

Among humanity’s greatest achievements is denial. Denial is why we also invented poetry. If it hurts, at least make it sound pretty and pretend that it’s not as bad as you know it is.

Take that, Rainer!” A well-deserved early morning pre-coffee-poet-dis! I’m capable of spilling some hard truth even as I’m right in the middle of being defeated by greater and greater things! And, I have to say, as a recent dirty stay-up, with not yet enough caffeine in my veins, and with one word responses coming to my every question, I can say with conviction that this, too, will be a mirepoix of a day.

Thank goodness.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MIREPOIX

Cope! [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Let’s just call it a coping mechanism. Job loss came fast and furious. The news came on the coldest, greyest week of the year. Hollywood could not have provided a better scene. Job loss. Freezing rain.

Escapism, for us, often looks like a long drive and on our long drive we had a sudden hankering for french fries. Escapism provides an open invitation for all the foods you normally avoid. The rules of escapism also allow for over-indulgence. At the Culver’s drive-thru, we didn’t order the human-sized fries. We ordered the family pack. They had to use a forklift to bring the fries to our car. And, we ate them. Almost all of them.

The rules of over-indulgence require deniability. We left ten fries in the tray so we might in good faith tell the food police that we didn’t eat the whole thing. We didn’t over-indulge! We didn’t eat the whole truckload of fries! Who would do such a thing! Not us, certainly.

I’m giggling a bit since our topic yesterday was choice. In the way of all perfect hypocrisy I claim the choice of deniability. I’m following the rules. We ate them, maybe, but we had to do it, if we ate them – and I’m not saying that we did though they might have been good – but I can’t remember. There may or may not have been a food coma.

Good heavens! French fries have made me a politician! I’ve always wondered why on earth anyone would become a politician…

Politics. A new career, perhaps? Not a chance. I want to escape my escapism, not make it a way of life. Though, from here, there may or may not be a few more fries needed to get to the other side. I’ll keep you posted. However, I can say with certainty that, in the short term, you can’t believe a word I write.

Now, who wants to go for a drive?

read Kerri’s blogpost about FRIES

Go It Together [on Flawed Wednesday]

“The problem is that this fluidity is not a choice we are free to make. Despite the unifying patriotic rhetoric that permeates the United States, on some level Americans are not really fooled: at bottom, each person knows he or she must continually “reinvent themselves,” which is to say, go it alone. America is the ultimate anticommunity.” ~ Morris Berman, Dark Ages America: The Final Phase of Empire

I laughed aloud when I read this quote. It reduced to a simple phrase what I believe is the collective experience of being an American (U.S.) in the 21st century. Together, we go it alone.

“Going it alone” is, of course a delusion shared by cowboys, republicans, and guys that put big tires on their trucks. After all, someone had to make the tires. And the truck. And pave the road. Using tax dollars since the roads are public and maintained by the collective. All of the chest-thumping expressions of individuality are, after all, firmly rooted in the lives and labors of others.

It only takes a minute to tease apart the loose fibers of the go-it-alone mythos. The problem is that one must want to think it through and, in our current spiral into stupidity, thought is shunned. So is history. At the core of anti-community is the absence of critical thought and a bucket of denial.

[Sidebar: this reminds me of a favorite phrase that, one day, popped out of Jim’s mouth: because you think it, does not make it so. Because you believe it, does not make it so.]

In my current state of residence, the governor, a democrat, asked the legislature, a randy band of republicans, to meet for a special session to discuss the ills that currently plague our community. The randy band gaveled open the session and then, as is its custom, immediately gaveled it closed. Legislators that refuse to discuss issues or policy. Sitting in the people’s house, obstruction is the only card in their deck. Not a single idea or impulse to serve the public in the randy band and their lock-step rugged individualism.

It is the sign of our times. Going it alone together is an ugly race to the supremacist bottom.

The cure for what ails us lives in the space between the gavels. Genuine discussion of the real challenges that face the community. An acknowledgement that driving the big cowboy truck adorned with big cowboy tires is only possible on the public road made viable by the shared effort of hundreds of fellow citizens. All of the Fox-driven drivel and religious right propaganda is never going to change the fact that we are all in this together. We can choose to be a failed state in a dedicated anti-community or we can thrive in the post colonial-era by bringing all ideas, all points-of-view, all people, to the common table for a wee-bit of collaboration, compromise, and long-needed-real-live-bona-fide-communal-reinvention.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MASKS OPTIONAL

Snore and Deny [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Although we may have led you to believe otherwise, these characters are fictitious. Especially the man. He’s a product of imagination and has no bearing on reality. Any resemblance is purely coincidental and, since I never snore, there’s no chance of coincidental resemblance. None. Nope.

Now, if the woman in the cartoon snored, well…

read Kerri’s blog post about CHAINSAWS

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Keep Driving! [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

We both have long histories of epic drives. We like being on the road. In our early days (not that long ago) we thought nothing of 16 hour drives. And then, in a snap, something changed. Namely, being able to see at night. Weird. It’s on the list of stuff that our elders had been warning us about but we paid no attention because it was never going to happen. To us.

It was on the drive home from our honeymoon that we made the rule: no more night time roadtripping. If we can’t afford to stop, we shouldn’t make the trip. If we don’t have the time to stop, we shouldn’t make the trip. And, by the way, what happened to my 20/20 vision? I’m sure it’s here somewhere!

We are quite capable of denial. Denial is a great breaker of rules. Also, circumstance plays a role in our rule following. You haven’t experienced life until you’ve been in a car with Kerri driving like a demon to outrun a tornado. That the sun was setting was not a factor at all. We blasted through the night. I swear that LittleBabyScion nearly took flight. I didn’t know it was night, though, because I had my eyes closed. Sometimes it is simply better to not see what’s coming and keep on driving.

read Kerri’s blog post about KEEP DRIVING

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Be Manly [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Don’t be deceived. Even though I’m a sensitive male, a soft-guy, an empath, an introvert, a painter…I am, after all, still a man. In a pre-google-maps-world, when lost, I’d never stop the car and ask for directions. I’d flex and figure it out. If you have a problem, my first impulse is to fix it. Guy stuff, through and through. Sometimes I even surprise myself. “How manly of me!” I exclaim.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BOY-GIRL STUFF

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Find A Way [on Two Artists Tuesday]

In the age of Covid, the rules are different. We keep our distance from friends and loved ones. We make rules for engagement. Vaccinations, boosters and negative tests are the requirement for a visit. What was once connective tissue – like an airplane – is now a barrier. A cost/benefit analysis is required before stepping into a terminal. And then, spin the world of rules and boundaries on its axis and this is also true: we find a way. It’s what I appreciate most about people. Will finds way.

A species ends when it can no longer adapt to changes in circumstance.

For weeks we searched for a way to see Craig. To give him his xmas presents. A restaurant that required masks, proof of vaccination, and had a protected outdoor patio provided the necessary ingredients. On a January night, with temperatures dipping into the low 20’s we sat at a table nested between heaters and shared a meal. We exchanged gifts. And, we weren’t the only guests dining on the patio. Other patrons also searched for and found a way.

We loved our meal and our time together. We laughed at the absurdity of the situation. We acknowledged and embraced the necessity of outdoor dining in sub-zero temperatures. We made a story that we’ll tell in years to come. Do you remember when…?

Zoom has become a way. To a point. We’ve learned in this time of pandemic that seeing someone on a screen doesn’t replace seeing them in person. At work we’ve learned that many things can be done through a screen but many generative experiences are slower or inhibited without presence.

Presence.

Energy begets energy; the fire of enthusiastic idea generation is dampened through an app. As Skip said at our end of year meeting, “Nothing replaces breaking bread together. Someday we’ll share a meal.” I look forward to that time, to meeting the incredible people that I see each day through my screen.

We are racking up stories as we adapt to an ever-changing circumstance. To drive rather than fly takes time so we’re learning to take more time. To not rush to arrive. We feel the limits on the distance of our reach. We’re learning the depth of yearning to be-with as opposed to merely-look-at. We’re learning the necessity of boundaries and the health-considerations that come with saying “No.” Mostly, we’re learning the hard line between what’s do-able through a screen, and when we need to consider the ridiculous – and find a way.

read Kerri’s blog post about HEATERS