Carry The Impression [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Leigh is an authority on rock art, the pictographs and petroglyphs found in caves and on rock walls around the world. People, for whatever reason, leaving a mark. Leaving their mark. Ritual? Aesthetic? I relished conversations with him as I peppered him with questions, speculating about their reasons.

Brad once said – that when he passes someday – he wants a plaque on a bench so that people will know that he was here. Future bench sitters will read the plaque and wonder who he was and why his name is on the bench.

Recently 20 brought to our house several drawings, conte crayon on newsprint. They are figure studies Duke, his father, did years ago when working with a model. They are gorgeous and free, the drawings of a master. Most are signed. I sign my paintings, too. I want people to know that they are mine, that I created them. Looking at the drawings, now that Duke is gone, I was taken by the power of the marks on the page, his signature, reaching across time to tell me, “This was my work. I was there.”

When BabyCat passed the vet made an impression of his paw for us. A keepsake. A reminder. I doubt BabyCat cared at all but we did. It helps us stay connected. It prompts us to tell stories.

Dogga’s beard is as grey as mine. He sometimes groans when he stands. He snores at night and we smile, knowingly. A few weeks ago, for a day or two, he was in pain, limping for unknown reasons. Although I knew it was not serious, an achy joint or pulled muscle, I was terrified at the depth and scope of what I was feeling. Love is like that. He stepped through the snow and left a print. I stared at it, taken by it, like Duke’s signature or a petroglyph scratched into stone. I watched him prance his circle-of-patrol and was utterly grateful for my terror, for the depth and scope of what I was feeling.

Love is like that. A bottomless impression he has left in me that I will carry to the end of my days.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DOGGA PRINT

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Wish For It [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“The world is changed by your example, not by your opinion.” ~ Paulo Coelho

And so we tie up another year according to the latest iteration of the Roman calendar. As is customary on the waning days of the year, we look back and review where we’ve been, who we’ve lost, and attempt to measure our progress toward any number of goal posts. We affix an adjective or two to the passing year; “It was a good year.” Or, “It was a bad year.” A rough year. A surprising year. It’s the time of experience-reduction and encapsulation. It’s the time of renewal as we step over the imaginary line with an imaginary clean slate.

We wish each other a happy new year. I’ve been wondering what the world would look like if the wish had some teeth. What would we do on the first day of the new year – and every day after – if it was more than a passing wish; if it was our imperative to make certain that each person in our community, in our lives, would have a happy year. Happiness as a shared responsibility. How might that change our choices? How might that fulfill the ubiquitous ideal to “lead by example”? To live by example.

I know. Another pie-in-the-sky post. But I would offer this thought from my personal year-in-review: I am surrounded by people who have made my well-being their personal concern. And, I haven’t the first idea how to reciprocate in a meaningful way except to pay it forward in any way possible. To live my life according to their example.

So, was it a hard year? Yes. Oh, god, yes. Was it an extraordinary year? Yes. Unbelievable. Am I moving forward with a clean slate? A fresh beginning? No. Not a chance. The baggage is coming with me.

Except there will be this: when I throw my confetti into the air and toot a horn of celebration, wearing my funny hat, I will step across the line in full knowledge and with a full heart, a new imperative beyond the sing-song wish of a Happy New Year. I will have an example to follow that completely transforms the once-yearly-ritual-wish into a daily-lived-action.

It’s not pie-in-the-sky, after all. It’s about time we create what we always wish for.

grateful/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE WISH

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Share and Renew [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

As additions-to-traditions go, the bauble-on-the-tree is a relatively recent inclusion. People have decorated their dwellings with pine boughs, a symbol of renewal and rebirth (of the light), for many, many centuries. Placing ornaments-on-trees only began in the 1800’s.

We decided this year – for reasons that reach beyond words – to bring out Beaky and Pa’s ornaments. We are minimalists mostly so in the decade of my Wisconsin life these ornaments have lived in a box in the basement. We look at them every year but have never – until now - hung them on a tree. They are glass and fragile so we worked slowly, placing them with care.

Having them with us this season has been more powerful than I imagined. Having them with us this morning is more meaningful than I thought possible. Family is with us. And, isn’t that, after all is said and done, the point of it all? Given family and chosen family. To feast our long line of belonging and celebrate our brief time on this earth together. To honor that we are, as Jean Houston wrote, “…the burning point of the ancestral ship.” To gather, adding to the rich bank of shared memory. We reach back in time with gratitude. We live forward through our children and their children and their children…

This morning we sit quietly, sipping our coffee, sharing stories, hanging out with Beaky and Pa, in our recognition and deep appreciation of this time of life’s Renewal.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BAUBLES

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buymeacoffee is…

Listen To The Sing-Song [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The sound, rhythm and pattern of language. Listen to the sing-song of a mother talking to her infant child. Exaggerated prosody. Love carried through time and space on a warm carpet of sweetly over-elaborated sound waves. The words carry less meaning than the prosody. The shape of the sound, exaggerated to invoke a giggle. A bright face. A smile.

In our house, the exaggerated prosody is reserved for Dogga. “It’s time for sleepy-night-night!” Kerri sings to a tired-faced-Dogga. There is a distinct rhythm to “sleepy-night-night” that has become a comforting ritual chant. Our day would not be complete without it. He wags his tail and lopes toward the bedroom. Or, “We’re going to the living room!” she says in response to his constant anticipation of our next move. The words “living room” elongated and embued with excitement. He dashes to beat us there and, in my mind, to convince us that he’s been waiting all along.

When Unka John arrives, his ritual Dogga sing-song goes like this: “Hey! Hey! Give me that bone!” The game is explicit, the sound of the words as exacting as a line from Sondheim. After Unka John pretends to eat Dogga’s bone and returns it to the awaiting Dogga mouth, signaling the end of the arrival game, he chants two consecutive times, “Do you want a treat!” with the hard accent and lift on the word “treat.” It sets-off a full body wag and race to the treat jar. “Gentle! Gentle!” is the incantation that signals Dogga to sit and tenderly accept the treat. Of course, the whole sequence of Unka-John love-fest is ignited when we say to Dogga, “Guess who’s coming?” in a melodic line that we know will provoke a bouncing-dog-rush to the front door as we await the imminent arrival.

The meaning is not carried in the words, rather, it’s in the poetry of the tones. The generosity of the sound.

It’s the poetry of everyday life. The ritual sounds we use to shape our day, to create our comfort-home. To fill our hearts with gratitude. To clearly say, “I love you” in sound and tone when our words are merely, “Do you want some lunch?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about EXAGGERATED PROSODY

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buymeacoffee is a sing-song of generosity offered to the ongoing work of the artists and travelers that support you journey.

Mark The Time [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

As long as we’ve been walking trials – I include trails in other states and nations – we’ve never encountered a salamander. It was so out of the ordinary that, at first, we thought someone had dumped a no-longer-wanted pet on the trail. We railed at the cruelty of humans. But, after a quick google search, we found that this critter was natural to the area. Not a pet, after all. Nocturnal, so rarely seen in the daylight. We recanted our railing, changed our tune, and counted the encounter as rare and special. Which it was.

Our salamander encounter was also a marker in time. This post marks the 300th week of our Melange. 300 weeks of writing about our encounters, our ramblings, our rantings, our hopes, our dreams, our dilemmas. At the beginning of week 1, we placed these words at the top of our website: “Brewed from our studio, sometimes fresh and sometimes aged, we offer a daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter, and beauty.”

We can’t claim to know your experience of our too-much-writing but we can report without reservation that we’ve profited mightily. Each day we sit together and write. No peeking at the other’s post. And then we read. We talk about what the photo prompt inspired, the great mystery of inspiration; where did that idea come from?

As milestone symbols go, a salamander is a good one. In my quick research of salamander-as-symbol, these were the first words I read: “Salamander opens us up to secrets within ourselves, secrets within others, and secrets of the spirit.”

And so we step toward week 301 with a healthy dose of salamander blessing, a renewed intention to brew some goodness from our studio, and a whole lot of gratitude for you – out there – giving some of your time to read our daily blend of goodness, thought, laughter, and beauty.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SALAMANDER

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buymeacoffee is what it is: a salamander on the trail that tells us you believe we are doing worthwhile work in the world.

Dance [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

One of the first paintings I did for Kerri is called Dancing In The Front Yard. From the very beginning we’ve had a natural impulse to dance. In the kitchen. On the deck. In an airport. On the trail. In the front yard.

If we break into spontaneous slow-dancing and the Dogga is near, it never fails that he joins us. Standing on his hind legs, paws on our shoulders, together we three dance our celebration of togetherness. There is nothing better on this earth.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DANCING

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Watch Them Play [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

I’m not sure if the colors are especially exceptional this year or if I am simply more conscious of them. Either way, every time I step out the door I am gobsmacked by the vibrant hues and color-tones.

An earlier version of me would have been compelled to recreate the color-pop on a canvas. Now I am content to stand still in appreciation. To drink it in. The colors change each day. They change with the light. Grey skies make the color sing. When the sun is low in the sky, the plumes on the grasses are electric.

For fun I downloaded “color tips” from Art2Life. He’s terrific. One of his tips is to make one color the hero of the composition. So, I’ve found myself – in mid-gobsmack – asking “Which color in this autumn symphony is the current hero?” And, to my great delight, there is always a standout, a color hero that commands my eye. And, to my even greater delight, when I return later to the exact location, there is an entirely different hero; the previous hero has no problem moving into a supporting role.

Light flickers. The sun arcs across the sky. The heroes share the stage without an ounce of competition. Theirs is an infinite game. I am so grateful that I am here to watch the colors play.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GRASSES

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Start There [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The rest of her quote went like this: “And not everyone has had that chance.”

A simple gratitude too often missed.

For years I’ve made it my practice to list my gratitudes at the end of each day. It became my practice because I was – in my original orientation to time on this planet – hyper-focused on what was wrong with me and the world. Obstacle focused. Conflict obsessed. Judgmental of my every move. Refocusing my eye on the abundant generosity of this ride was – at least initially – an act of survival. I’ve come to realize that is was the most self-loving choice I’ve ever made. I’ve found that I am now counting gratitudes in real-time, as they happen.

See the glimmers. Note the kindness. Do not miss the sun on your face. Appreciate the smile. My nightly gratitudes rarely recount monumental happenings. The first sip of coffee. A message from a friend. The Dogga made us laugh. We wrote together. Warm bread and camembert cheese. Kerri held my hand.

I had a full day of life. Let’s start there.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHANCE

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buymeacoffee is a monetary gratitude offered in support of the continued creation of the artists you value.

Feel The Sound [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Far into the sleepless night, the cold night air driving me deeper beneath the quilt, I heard the low song of the chimes and whispered a gratitude to Guy. There are few things in life that bring me an immediate sense of peace and well-being like the chimes.

A few months ago Kerri and I wrote of our yearning for chimes. Our “someday” wish. We wrote of the many times we’ve stood in stores, sounding the chimes-on-display, feeling and then discussing the tones. Guy read our post. His life is rapidly changing. He wanted to find a new home for his beloved chimes. Would we like them? Yes! Double-Yes!

They are magic. I feel the sound to my core. In the few weeks since we hung them from our spruce tree, more than once I’ve stood near when the breezes begin to blow, and closed my eyes so I can feel the full ripple of sound resonate through my being. It’s like a giant Tibetan prayer bowl. Instant calm. Instant presence.

Were I in charge of this contentious world, every person would begin each day with chimes. Eyes closed, resonating with the wind and their neighbors. But, since I am not in charge, I will drink in the peace and each time whisper my deepest thanks to Guy.

[this may be my favorite of Kerri’s compositions]

peace/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about CHIMES

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Eternal Thanks [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Eight years ago today, 10-10, at 11:11am, Kerri and I were married. Our guests teased us that our reception started at 12:12. The food truck was delayed in showing up and arrived one minute late at 1:02.

The altar was awash in daisies. Susan made daisy cupcakes. The first day I met Kerri she was holding a daisy so that I might recognize her at the airport. Daisies have been our flower ever since. She carried a bouquet of daisies as she walked down the aisle to join me.

Kerri wrote and recorded a song for me that played when I entered the church. It was a blue jeans wedding, our guests wore white shirts so we could wear our beloved black.

So many of our friends and family made food, decorated the beach house for our reception, fetched wine and coffee, built the bonfire on the beach. Kerri’s choir circled us and sang We Are Family. I like to think of our wedding as a barn-raising. My sister and niece jumped in to organize the moving pieces. So many people showed up and pitched in. Judy played her magic harp. Jim played his guitar. The ukulele band sang What A Wonderful World. Kerri and I shared words from our Roadtrip. Arnie and 20 were at my side. Kirsten and Craig stood beside Kerri.

We skipped out of the church just as we skipped out of the airport on the day we met.

Each day, every single day, I am grateful for the second chance that life brought to me. I. Am. The. Luckiest. Man. Alive.

If for a moment you doubt that this universe is generous, all you need do is think of me. Think of us.

and now © 2015 kerri sherwood

read Kerri’s blogpost about OUR ANNIVERSARY

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