Take Heart [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 14, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Young Arthur pulled a sword from a stone. He was a boy and his feat was something none of the strong men could achieve. He didn’t know it was an impossible task. His brother needed a sword; he saw one and he pulled it from the rock. An act of generosity. It was the sign: this boy had the character and destiny to be king.

I’ve read that long ago people believed the heart was the seat of the soul. It was thought to be good luck or a positive omen to find a heart shape in rock. A sign of love-on-the-way or an impending soul connection. A symbol that, even when darkness reigned, anything was possible. Light was available. In our home it is still considered good luck to find a heart shaped rock or a heart shape in a rock. We see them everywhere.

A heart-shaped stone is much different than a heart-made-of-stone. A heart of stone implies a lack of empathy. Indifference and/or cruelty.

In this time of spiraling chaos, when madness and sadism hold the reins and those in power gleefully sell the greater good for personal gain, I am daily struck by the wisdom of our guiding stories. The symbols and stories that give us guiding light to follow are available. A score of brutes tried unsuccessfully to pull the sword from the stone. They knew that the person who pulled the sword from the stone would become king. They wanted power. Arthur had no idea or thought of personal gain.. He was a scrawny kid, a squire with a good heart. The sword in the stone was a way for him to possibly help his brother. His pure heart made him king.

I stared at the heart, nature’s etching in the stone. I closed my eyes and hoped that it was, indeed, a sign. Purer hearts are coming. Soon a squire will step forward and with a heart of generosity, he or she will pull the sword from the stone.

“Take heart,” I thought, as Kerri took a photo, “Soul is on the way.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE HEART STONE

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There’s Hope [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 11, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

25 years ago a friend called and told me to turn on my television. Like the rest of the nation, I sat in disbelief for hours, glued to the screen, watching the terror unfold in NYC, at the Pentagon, in a field in Pennsylvania. In many ways I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what I witnessed; people leaping into space, the towers collapsing.

I remember it like it was yesterday. This morning, the moment that haunts me, a moment that haunts me every September 11th, is the moment I turned off the television. The early morning existed in a “before”. I found myself standing in an “after” and I knew that this world, this “after” would be more devastating than I or we imagined. The lid had popped off of Pandora’s box.

There is a direct line from that day to this. Playing on our wound, the nation has now twice elected a xenophobe, a unapologetic racist and misogynist who wants us to see enemies everywhere, exploits the fear of “outsiders” while promoting a fanatical isolationism and stoking our ugliest impulses. He thrives on our division. He’s managed to turn our fear on each other. We need not fear foreign terrorists since we are passionately destroying ourselves. He – and his party – feed our anxiety so they might feed on our angst. They profit mightily from our discord.

They are no different than the men who flew airplanes into our twin towers. That is not hyperbole: they intend to bring down the nation. They work to make the tower of democracy collapse. They corrupt and dismantle our Constitution. They rob the poorest to profit the wealthiest. They spew misinformation and spin propaganda to keep us distracted while they destroy our system of checks and balances. They would have us become a an autocracy or worse, an extremist Christian theocracy.

My other memory from the initial days following 9/11 are of people coming together. A memorial spontaneously appeared at The Seattle Center. People checked in with their neighbors. People checked in with strangers on the street. For a moment we existed in a unified story. We came together. The assault on our nation brought forward our humanity. We cared for the well-being of others.

That is my pie-in-the-sky hope for what happens when the horror of this administration crumbles. We see each other again. We stop each other on the street and ask, “Are you okay?” We prosecute and hold accountable all those who assaulted our system, who betrayed their oath to the Constitution, who robbed from the poor and gave to the rich. We return to our humanity and our senses.

As the story goes, after all the ills were released on the world, only Hope remained in Pandora’s box. Hope: wanting something good to happen and – more than wanting – expecting that it will happen.

There will be an “after” to this era. Change is the only constant. Maybe, just maybe, the “after” that follows this “before” will be more restorative, more healing and constructive than we – or I – can imagine. Maybe a return to our senses will bring revival of our humanity, recovery of our moral compass, rejuvenation of our spirit of generosity.

More than want it, I expect that it will be so. There’s Hope.

(do yourself a favor on this 9/11 and give yourself 3 minutes to rest and breathe-in Kerri’s HOPE)

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

read Kerri’s blog post about THE FULL MOON

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Everyday, Everyday [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on May 11, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Sometimes it feels as if this great big old universe pops us on the head. It wants our attention. It wants us to hear its music beyond the noisy ruckus. This is one of those times.

Many months ago, late at night while Kerri was sleeping, I came across a video called, The Life We Have. I wasn’t paying too much attention and thought it was a hiking video so I clicked on it. I was not prepared for what I saw. At the end I had to stifle my sobs so I didn’t wake Kerri. So, when last week it popped up again in our feed, I told her she had to see it: Rob Shaver, living with stage four cancer for over 20 years, squeezing every ounce of gratitude he can from the life he has. His story is raw. His telling is pure. We both sobbed.

The next day L sent us a video of a man, a friend and teacher, speaking of orienting his life toward gratitude.

The next day D told us of his dedication to live from a place of generosity: generosity in thought, in action, in spirit.

The next day, while sitting in the backyard, seven vultures dropped from the clouds – seven – riding the thermals, spiraling low, just over our heads, and then circling higher and higher until they disappeared again into the clouds. It was gorgeous. Symbolically they represent purification and transformation. “I guess we’d better start paying attention,” I said.

In this past decade, ours has been a path of fire. Layers of dross and armor have been burned away. Bags of life-garbage have been reduced to cinders. We have no illusion that we are garbage-free but we are certain that the junk no longer dominates our view. We are not nearly as invested in murky grievances as once we might have been. We’re more and more clear-eyed in appreciating the moment we’re in and less and less interested in being anywhere else. More and more we hear the music in all things.

“The best thing you can do for your lungs is sing,” Rob Shaver said. This from a man who runs miles a day, a man whose lungs are filled with tumors. ‘”Everyday, everyday, everyday, everyday, everyday…be grateful for the life you have.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MUSIC

www.kerrianddavid.com

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A Cautionary Tale [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on February 24, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve not read John Steinbeck‘s novel, The Winter Of Our Discontent, but now seems to be a good time. Here’s an overview: “John Steinbeck’s The Winter of Our Discontent is about Ethan Allen Hawley, a man from a fallen aristocratic family in a corrupt, post-WWII American town, who abandons his morals for wealth, exploring themes of disillusionment, integrity, and the decay of the American Dream as he manipulates his way to success, only to find emptiness. The story follows his internal struggle as he gives in to the materialistic pressures from his family and society, ultimately questioning the true cost of success and the nature of honesty in a self-serving world.” (A I Overview) 

Perhaps this would be an appropriate book for members of the republican party to read? They seem hellbent on abandoning their morals for wealth, manipulating their way to power (otherwise known as lying and gaslighting), actively assaulting the American Dream en route to finding emptiness.

It is cold comfort to realize that our current kerfuffle is not unique to our times. Moral bankruptcy has been – and continues to be – a persistent problem in the national psyche. My favorite phrase in the overview is this: the nature of honesty in a self-serving world.

As we’ve previous written, we hit the trail as often as possible to clear our minds, to step out of the daily hoohaw and reconnect with tangible reality. We inevitably focus on the beauty that surrounds us. It is inescapable to take a walk in the woods and not arrive at some level of understanding of interconnection. It is a short leap from there to the realization that any harm done to others is harm done to yourself. Any poison dumped into the river is poison dumped into yourself. And, on the flip-side, any service done for others is service to yourself. Any generosity offered to others is a generosity given to yourself. Thriving community is – and always has been – the blossom of other-serving.

If there is a persistent hoax afoot in our nation it is the republican-cowboy-notion of “every man for himself”. It is a lie. It is a swindler’s philosophy, a justification for raw exploitation. Exploitation of others inevitably fleeces everyone. It is not true, as the republicans-since-Reagan would have us believe, that the “welfare mothers” and “illegals” are taking advantage of our hard-earned tax dollars, it is in fact the Epstein Class, the morbidly wealthy, who have in the past 5 decades sucked over 50 trillion dollars of wealth from the middle and lower classes into the coffers of the 1%. What is the cost of success in a self-serving world? As many have written, we are witnessing the suicide of a superpower at the hands of a bloated oligarchy.

Here’s the last line of the overview: “Ultimately, the novel serves as a cautionary tale about the emptiness that results from sacrificing one’s principles for material gain, resonating with Steinbeck’s broader concerns about the state of the American character.” 

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE WINTER FLOWER

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To Be Home [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on February 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Until I was 52 years old I did not know what the word “home” meant. I understood it abstractly, as an intellectual concept, as a hypothetical place of belonging…I just did not know what it felt like to be home. I was a wanderer.

I remember a moment, many years ago, when my pal Robert gave me some wise cautionary advice. I was footloose and flirting with a woman. He said, “Be careful. You don’t get involved with a woman like her unless you are ready to settle down.” I thought his caution was about the woman but later realized his wise words had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. My friend knew me. I was restless. A wanderer.

There is more to the word “home” than a pin in a map. Google can give me directions to a location but can never show me the way home.

Home is the way Kerri and I start each day. It is different than the way others start their day, recognizable only to us and Dogga. Home is the tiny generosities that we offer each other, unique to us, unlike the considerations others offer their significant other. Home is knowing what she is feeling before she does. Home is sensing where she is in the house or in the world even when I cannot see her.

Home is knowing that she reads my mind and not minding.

I knew I was home the moment we met. I knew I was home when home had nothing at all to do with settling. I knew I was home when my wandering had a clear direction, a daily destination, a vibrant space between us that only we are capable of creating, a space that Google Maps or AI is incapable of finding or replicating or pinning down.

I now know what it feels like to be home and that feeling travels where ever we decide to wander.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MAP

www.kerrianddavid.com

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No Need [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on January 29, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

In their struggle for power, the princes, the two sons of the king, meet in battle and both die. It’s an ancient tale. Aesop could have written it. In the blind greed for power everyone loses.

I’ve tried to paint this analogy several times over the past decade. Each time I have been unsuccessful; the painting takes on a life of its own. Twice, instead of painting dead princes on the battlefield, both attempts morphed into Shared Fatherhood.

I tried again just before the turn of the new year. I am disgusted with both parties, democrats and republicans and tried again to paint the brothers dead on the battlefield. The meaningless loss.

Yet, once again, the lifeless bodies morphed. Their weapons and wounds disappeared. Clenched fists relaxed. Full of life, the figures embrace. They sleep together, peacefully.

I will not again try to paint the warring brothers. Clearly, my analogy for power-greed serves a greater invocation of generosity. Unselfishness. A shared cause, like a parent’s love for their child, a kindness for each other.

Invocation. The people protesting on the streets of Minneapolis are summoning peace. They are looking out for each other. They are standing in harm’s way for each other. They serve a cause greater than greed for power. They are teaching me what my paintings are trying to reach. A calling forth of the best in us. A desire for our representatives to serve a common center – democracy – instead of personal gain.

We walked the trail on a bitter cold day. The snow was frozen and crunched beneath or feet. It was quiet. The sun streamed through the trees and offered a touch of warmth. It never fails. When we step into nature and out of the noise, when we listen to the wind through the trees, spot the deer motionless in the tangle, when we stop to feel the sun touch us on a bitter cold day, I know beneath the greed for power there is a greater force, a deeper meaning. Two people sharing the joy of their child. Two people resting in the comfort of an embrace. A community in service to common good. The generosity of peace. The creation of peace.

These power-mongers will slay each other. It’s inevitable.

After so many attempts I’ve learned that I have no need to paint the obvious, I have no need to make a statement as old and evident as the sons of Oedipus.

Untitled, 33.25″x60″, mixed media

Shared Fatherhood II, 25.25 x 40.25IN, mixed media

Shared Fatherhood 1, 39 x 51IN, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUN ON TRAIL

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For Every Little Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on January 6, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

If you came to our house over the holidays you’d find trees, trees, trees everywhere. Trees of all shapes and sizes. Some wrapped in lights. Some adorned by a single silver ornament. Some without adornment of any kind. The outside invited inside. Until recently, when we moved it to the back deck, a large tree-sized branch wrapped in happy lights dominated our living room, 24/7, 365 days a year.

It should not then come as a surprise that last year we moved the aging wooden glider from the deck into the living room. It now sports fuzzy white pillows. Dogga knows that when we say, “Let’s go to Minturn!” it means we are headed for the glider. He meets us there.

Our most recent outside-in addition is the chiminea. It was a wedding present and over the past decade we’ve loved it and used it often. Sitting on the deck one night this past summer, Kerri was eyeing the chiminea. “What?” I asked.

“In the fall, when the weather turns cold, I think we should move it inside,” she said.

And, so, we did. The chiminea now lives in our sun room with a plant sitting atop the chimney. Happy lights pop on within the burn chamber at sunset. Each evening at snack-time we sit at our bistro table and enjoy the warmth of the light glowing from within the natural clay.

20 recently said, ‘I hope you two appreciate each other.” We laughed and reassured him, we literally recounted for him, the many ways that we, each-and-every-day, express our appreciation for each other. She thanks me for making breakfast. I thank her for washing our clothes. We have, in our past lives, taken for granted the daily kindnesses that others offered us and that we offered to others. We’d somehow allowed the myriad tiny-generosities of our past relationships to lapse into the mundane. We learned from our mistake.

In this, life’s second chance, we take advantage of every opportunity to express our appreciation.

In fact, the idea behind our Minturn, the force that brought the chiminea inside, is the creation of opportunities for appreciation. They are spaces we create, places we stop so we can sit solidly in the moment, sharing a simple snack of bread and cheese, sipping a glass of wine, and feeling the full abundance of our lives. And, the greatest abundance of all is the conscious cultivation of appreciation for every-little-thing, especially cherishing the time we have together on this earth and the opportunity to fill each moment with appreciation for each other.

*****

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHIMINEA

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The Ever-Green [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on December 24, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

As we sat down to write, she said, “Who knows what will happen in a week.” It sparked a minor revelation for me. We are writing this post a full week ahead of publishing, which is unusual for us. We generally write a day or two ahead but rarely in our Melange writing have given ourselves this much of a head start. In fact, we’ve maintained our seven day lead for the past two weeks. My minor revelation: In these divisive times, when we write a day or two before posting, we are more likely to focus on the latest outrage. We are reactive. When we write several days ahead, we are more likely to focus on something generative, positive. We are intentional.

Standing in the present we are often overwhelmed by the brutality of the current regime. We wonder at the people who voted for and continue to support such mean-spirited-immorality.

Staring into the future we see and believe in the inherent goodness of people. We are often taken by the beauty and generosity that surround us.

It hasn’t always been this way. This time-related-split-focus is unique to this age of attempted authoritarian takeover of our nation. Prior to this monstrous administration we generally focused on the goodness, the people and places that inspired us – whether we were writing a single day or a week ahead.

Kerri and I are not religious (well, she comes from a Lutheran tradition and I must have been a mashup between a Druid and Buddhist in a past life) so the two symbols that populate our home during the holidays are trees and lights. Trees with lights. There are little trees popping up everywhere. There is a tiny tree in my studio and one on her piano.

Last night, staring at the tiny tree that sits on the bistro table in our sunroom, I thought it a perfect symbol for our times. The evergreen is an ancient symbol, associated with the solstice, the return of the light. The tree and its boughs represent – and have always represented – the end of the dark times. It once represented the healing of the ailing sun and its return to health. It proffers a promise of good times ahead.

The little tree on our table helped me grok my minor revelation. Metaphorically – and literally – we are currently standing in darkness. It is immediate and necessary to write about the monsters that plague us. It is heartbreaking to watch the rapid decline of our ailing nation.

Yet, moving through the solstice in its various forms of celebration, when we look into the future we hold out hope for the inevitable return of the light. It beckons, like the little trees, and promises the return of kindness and the restoration of health to the hearts of the people and to the nation. And, when that day arrives, we will no doubt retire our split focus, leave the darkness and dark days behind, and re-establish a singular focus on the generative, the light, the ever-green.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE

www.kerrianddavid.com

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A Simple Thing [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on November 17, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

In our defense, we didn’t buy the cupcake. Our dear Jen heaped a dizzying array of treats upon us before we hit the road. Also, she knows us. I imagine she predicted that, at the end of ten hours of driving, a bit of snack-decadence with wine would warm our hearts and make us feel at home.

Everyone on earth should have a Jen: a friend who is dedicated to making your life better and easier.

Everyone on earth should be a Jen: a person who is dedicated to making the lives of the people in their circle better and easier. And, since the circles we populate are not fixed or exclusive, the intentional kindness would overlap, ripple, and literally connect us – each to one another in a dedication of support – making the world a better place.

The first time I met Kerri, climbing into the car at the airport, I found a sandwich and a hot cup of coffee waiting for me. She thought I might be hungry after traveling so far. It was such a simple thing, a generosity. It reinforced what I already knew about her, what I already loved about her.

Making the world a better place. It doesn’t seem that difficult but it does require asking a question that seems radical in a dog-eat-dog culture: what can I do to make your life better and easier? It’s really a question of responsibility, isn’t it? The Butterfly Effect.

Yes, I am fully aware of the impossibility of my idealism. Yet, how fortunate am I to have a friend like Jen? How utterly impossible is it that I met and married a woman like Kerri?

read Kerri’s blogpost about CUPCAKES AND WINE

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Break Bread [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on October 28, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

Ah, bread. There are few sensual pleasures more fulfilling than the smell of freshly baked bread on an autumn morning. There are few taste combinations more delightful than warm bread and hot coffee. There are few visual pleasures more beautiful than racks of freshly baked bread.

There are few symbols more immediately meaningful than bread. Abundance. Breaking bread together is a gesture of friendship, a sign of peace. This world could use some more breaking-of-bread, some more willingness to meet in the middle and participate in that most human of activities: sharing a simple meal.

In the little village we wandered into the Copenhagen Bakery to grab a sandwich and found more than we anticipated. It was a thriving meeting place of the community, packed during all hours of the day, alive with conversation. Rather than grab our sandwich we decided to stay and soak it up – an unusual choice for two people who’ve grown to avoid crowded places. We had to work hard to find a place to sit. The BLT that we ordered was enormous. The remainder of the plate was piled with homemade chips and a chocolate chip cookie. It was an expression of generosity. During our brief stay in the village we went back to the bakery again and again; we needed the nurturing that this place of bread and intentional kindness offered. We needed the experience of a community gathering around warm bread to talk, laugh and share stories.

Intentional kindness. Generosity. Qualities that are magnetic. They create. They uplift. They pull people toward a common center.

In this era of intentional meanness and rampant greed, we are witness to these qualities that can only divide and destroy. They repel and discourage. Dis-courage: literally dis-hearten. Cut out the heart.

Sitting in the Copenhagen Bakery I whispered a wish that somehow, someway, these political parties and our communities, that are so unnecessarily divided, might find their way to this heart-filled bakery, that they might put down their whipped-up-discord long enough to sit for a spell in a space that exudes generosity of spirit and break bread together.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BREAD

www.kerrianddavid.com

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