Their Spell [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Had it been my job to name them they would have never been associated with mourning. Instead of sad or haunting, I find the song of mourning doves reassuring. It is soothing. Calming doves. Reassuring doves.

In the spring and summer their song is often the first thing I hear in the morning. While the coffee brews I let Dogga out; I pause at the backdoor and appreciate the cool morning air and the mourning dove serenade. They are quiet heralds of appreciation for all-the-life approaching in the upcoming day.

This year we have a mourning dove couple in residence. I’ve not yet discovered their nest but they are regulars, pecking in the yard. They are daily visitors at the bird-bath-drink-n-spa. They perch on the wires or the roof of the neighbors garage and sing their siren song, spinning a spell of serenity over us as we sit and absorb the sun. Dogga chases them. They squawk and complain but always return when he settles on the deck for a snooze.

In these disconcerting times I am especially appreciative of their spell, their gift of equanimity. Serenity is slippery in the daily dose of malicious chaos but the mourning doves, our singers of tranquility, always bring me home to my heart, slow my breathing, quiet my troubled mind. Magic doves.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MOURNING DOVES

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Vis-À-Vis The ♡ [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

In relation to the heart. In regard to the heart. Be careful! This heart of mine is made of soft tissue.

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves…” Advice from Rainer Maria Rilke. I find that it is much wiser to take the advice of poets rather than the counsel of politicians. Poets seek truth beyond words. Politicians often use words to obscure truth.

With so much unsolved in my heart I have spent my lifetime developing a love of questions. The same is probably true for you. I admit that there are days that I tire of loving the question and shake my fist at the sky, crying, “For once just give me a goddamn answer!”

Those fist-shaking moments always result in silence-from-the-sky, which inevitably leads to a question, “Is it so hard to give me an answer or guidance or direction?” You gotta love that question!

I’ve noticed that the sky never answers immediately. It takes its sweet time. However, in time, sometimes after years of holding a question, the symphony resolves. A path opens. Or closes. An answer arrives, usually following a surrender.

“Our heart always transcends us.” There he goes again. Rilke. And just what does it mean that our heart always transcends us? It’s a good question. I imagine it will remain unanswered so it’s best not to ponder it too much. Pick it up, give it some love and carry on.

read Kerri’s blog post about VISÀVIS

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And Why? [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

High in the offices of KerriandDavid International headquarters, we stare at photos during our Melange selection process. Sometimes words appear in the image. In this photo the word, “Why” appeared. It’s akin to “Some Pig” showing up in Charlotte’s Web. “Whoa!” we whispered in unison.

“And why wouldn’t nature ask us, “Why?” Kerri added.

It may be that we have stared too long at photographs. It also might be the impact of too much coffee. In any case, we both saw the word in the bramble. It is an excellent and very appropriate question for nature to be asking of humanity. Why?

If we are learning anything these days it is that humanity is largely insane. This will not be the first time that humans have exhausted their resources and thoroughly soiled their nest en route to societal extinction all to make a buck or for the few to stand atop the pyramid.

Never doubt the power of story. Denial is, after all, a powerful form of story.

My WTF headline of the day, a perfect example of denial, is from US NEWS. It’s a report on the Womanosphere’s* continued and rabid support of ICE. The headline? Don’t Let Compassion Cloud You. I kid you not. It’s madness cut from the same cloth that brings us Stephen Miller insisting that Alex Pretti was a terrorist. No, don’t believe your eyes. Don’t let compassion cloud you. Keep your head in the gaslight. Ignore your heart. Gobble the propaganda.

Swear the ship is unsinkable even as it meets the obvious iceberg.

Since the early 1980’s we’ve known – through this magical thing called “science” – that carbon emissions were greatly impacting climate. The predictions from those early warnings were dire and we are, not surprisingly, living those dire predictions today.

The debate we are having is not about what is best for our survival but what is good for business. Don’t let science get in the way.

We are, whether we want to admit it or not, a part of nature. We are not above it even if we like to story ourselves as superior. Here is the lesson of societies long past that waved their superiority from atop the pyramid: nature is not really concerned with our story. Hurricanes are indiscriminate. As are mudslides and earthquakes. Drought does not care who it kills.

People, on the other hand are capable of discernment. People are capable of compassion. People are capable of knowing better. People are capable of learning from their past and their mistakes. In other words, people are more than capable of asking, “Why?” And, if they don’t, they end up making ridiculous statements from the top of their imagined pyramid like “Don’t Let Your Compassion Cloud You” or “Climate Change Is A Hoax,” or “He Was Brandishing A Gun.”

Whatever. Close your eyes if you must. Close your heart if you are capable.

I think I’ll listen to my heart while I pay attention to science. I’ll continue to ask, “Why?” My eyes and heart and brain are not in opposition to each other – and, even more to the point – while fully open and engaged, they are great at keeping me attuned to reality and off of some imaginary pyramid.

*I’d ordinarily provide a link as proof that such inanity exits but I refuse to support the algorithm that makes stupidity and cruelty popular.

read Kerri’s blogpost about WHY

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The Source [David’s blog on KS Friday]

A meme flew by. It used the events of last Saturday to illuminate two different ideas of masculinity. The first as demonstrated by Alex Pretti, a man trying to help a woman who was just shoved to the ground. He stood between the woman and her attacker. The second model of masculinity was demonstrated by the ICE-men who tackled, beat and murdered Alex Pretti.

After the meme flew by I wished that I could amend it. For me it did not illuminate two models of masculinity, rather, it made a clear distinction between a man and a beast, between a healthy human being and a rabid animal. It highlighted the difference between a good intention and a toxic drive.

Most hearts in the nation are heavy. Witnessing yet another execution in the streets by agents of the government – and then defended by the leaders all the way up to and including the authoritarian wannabe in the White House – has left us aghast. John Pavlovitz suggested that our heavy hearts are necessary; they are a sure sign of our humanity. They are fuel for our outrage.

Alex Pretti’s heavy heart required him to step into the streets of his city and video the brutality enacted upon his neighbors. Renee Good’s heavy heart did the same. Service to others is often an action inspired by a heavy heart. It takes a great deal of courage to stand between a masked thug and his victim. It takes great strength to video the abuse as if to say, “We see you and you will not get away with this”.

I opened The Marginalian this morning and read this: “Here is the mathematical logic of the spirit: If love is the quality of attention we pay something other than ourselves and hate is the veil of not understanding ourselves, then loving the world more — the other word for which is kindness — is largely a matter of deepening our awareness and sharpening our attention on both sides of the skin that membranes the self.”

Love is the quality of attention we pay something other than ourselves. Hate is the veil of not understanding ourselves. Hate is self-focused. Love is other-focused.

Democracy is by definition other-focused. Authoritarianism is by definition self-focused.

Our heavy hearts are propelling us into the streets. It just might be that our heavy hearts will be the necessary ingredient that saves our democracy from the rabid authoritarians. It just might be that our heavy hearts will propel us to stand between the self-centered oligarchy currently shoving Lady Liberty to the ground. Our heavy hearts do not make us weak. They are the source of our outrage and fuel for our courage.

WATERSHED 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 HEART

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What Goes Around [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“May you dwell in your heart. May you be free from suffering. May you be healed. May you be at peace.” ~ Buddhist Prayer

I’ve always appreciated this Buddhist prayer because it is inclusive and expansive. The prayer is repeated several times, each time with a change of the pronoun. For instance, it begins with “I”; “May I dwell in my heart…” From the center of “I”, the prayer moves outward as a prayer for the closest “other”; “May Kerri dwell in her heart…” And, then, again, moving outward, “May Dwight dwell in his heart…” and on and on, expanding and including until the outermost ring of the circle is reached, “May all people dwell in their heart…”

And then, the prayer continues, only now it pulls the heart of humanity back toward – and finally arriving at, “May I dwell in my heart. May I be free from suffering. May I be healed. May I be at peace.”

The message of the prayer cycle is explicit: outward peace on earth is the expression of inner peace within each individual.

Horatio echoed Kerri’s belief when he said that all religions can be boiled down to this phrase: be kind. Outward kindness to others is the expression of inner kindness to the self.

I’ve been pondering the root of deep division ripping apart our nation. It seems so simple. As Horatio reminded me, there are two philosophies at loggerheads. “Every man for himself” versus “I am my brother’s/sister’s keeper.” If you live in an “every man for himself” mindset then there is no need for inclusion or expansion. Exploitation is the goal and hoarding is the and the best you can do. We are witness to this philosophy: gold leaf and ballrooms while many in the nation starve. There is no need for heart or peace.

We are also witness to the other philosophy, those who care for the well-being of their neighbors: people marching in protest of the daily abuse power, people racing into the streets to protect their neighbors from ICE, people giving to food banks…

Which world would we rather live in? Democracy is fundamentally the Buddhist prayer. Of The People. Fascism is the opposite: a dictatorial leader using the military, suppressing opposition. No peace. No prayer.

Absolute power or governance by the people? Heart prayer or no heart? Personal gain through the intentional infliction of suffering or striving for peace and prosperity for all? Which will we choose?

In either case, as the old saying goes, “As within, so without.” Or, said another way, “What goes around, comes around.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

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

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

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The Way It Works [David’s blog on KS Friday]

She looks for hearts so, of course, she sees them everywhere. That is the way perception works. We have it backwards: we do not “believe it when we see it,” rather, “we see it because we believe it.” We see what we expect to find.

In these un-United States we are witness to the power of propaganda to shape belief. The Fox has millions believing that they are victims of a scary monster named Woke. They are steeped in the illusion of an imagined immigrant invasion. They are choking on the belief that our society is rotting from progress, under assault by the learned. None of these threats exist but that has no bearing on what the fox-mesmerized-audience perceives-and-believes. They look for boogeymen everywhere and, therefore, that is what they see. They see it because they believe it. No facts necessary. Reason cannot punch through the blindness of their hard faith. Heart is nowhere visible in their dark, mean-spirited perception.

Last night we made a pact with our pals. We vowed to slap each other awake if we grow rigid as we age. “I want to stay curious. I want to keep learning. There’s so much to learn.” Yes. And, again, yes.

I left our evening together so grateful for the people populating my life who are, like me – like us – dedicated to seeing miracles in the everyday. They look for possibility and, so, they find it. They are not afraid to challenge what they believe. They question. They step into the unknown. Their belief has not calcified, rather, it remains fluid and expansive. They grow. They check the veracity of what they are told. They do not seek to blame others for their obstacles. They seek the best in others and – you’ll not be surprised – they find it. That is the way perception works. That is the way a healthy society works.

LEGACY from the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEART

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Stop To Witness [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Sephora is an arrowhead philodendron. She lives in our sunroom and is named for a line of beauty products. Her name is threaded to a heart story. It’s enough to know that we adore Sephora and the memories she evokes.

The other night 20 was indulging in a perfectly good rant when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence and pointed to the sunroom. A ray of setting sunlight shimmered one of Sephora’s yellowing leaves. We leapt to our feet to see what caught 20’s eye. For a brief moment the yellowing leaf was radiant. Otherworldly.

Such a small thing rendered us monosyllabic. “Wow,” Kerri said, reaching for her camera.

Stretching my vocabulary to the breaking point, I added. “Yeah. Wow.”

“Cool,” said 20 as the sun moved a millimeter and the leaf quickly lost its shimmer.

Kerri frowned, looking at her snaps. “I didn’t get it,” she sighed. She hates missing a good photograph.

We returned to the table. 20 picked up his rant where he left off.

Later that evening, looking at her photo, I remembered the brief moment of the shimmering leaf. I’d already forgotten. It was as if we caught a glimpse of an angel passing through. It was so remarkable that it made us jump up from our chairs and yet the extraordinary moment was swept downstream, completely washed out of mind.

I am convinced that these extraordinary moments happen all the time. I am certain that we are surrounded by them – we are participants in them – yet rarely do we have the eyes to see them or attention span to retain them. We are moving too fast.

I saw a meme the other day that struck a truth-chord in me. It rushed by in my social media stream. It went something like this: I asked the great universe to reveal my purpose. The universe replied, “You fulfill your purpose when you tie a child’s shoe. You fulfill it when you shovel snow for your elderly neighbor. You fulfill it when you sit quietly with a grieving friend. You cannot see your purpose because you confuse purpose with achievement.”

I laughed recognizing my folly.

I would add this to the meme: You fulfill your purpose when you jump up to witness a moment of passing beauty. You fulfill your purpose when you stop the rant long enough to witness an angel passing through, threading your extraordinary story through the yellowing leaf of an arrowhead philodendron named Sephora.

read Kerri’s blog post about SEPHORA

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The Many, Many Things [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Although I see signs of spring everywhere, it wasn’t official until we received a text from The Grass King that the reality of the earth’s orbit set in. He’s monitoring the ground temperature and will let us know when it’s the perfect time to seed and fertilize. Like all of the plants, we yearn for some time in the sun.

For her birthday six years ago I gave her a paint bucket containing 60 slips of paper: 60 things I love about her. There were – and are – many more than 60 things so I had to edit. A few years after the bucket, among other things, I gave her a piano tuning. She has yet to cash in the tuning but I have hope that this is the year. True confession: my gift of tuning was selfish since I love to hear her play. Broken wrists et. al. has made those opportunities few and far between but I see signs…This truly may be the year.

Today she completes another lap around the sun. It’s her birthday. Dogga and I will spoil her to the degree that she allows (she generally resists being coddled). The day promises to be beautiful so we will take a nice walk. Perhaps a small adventure will beckon. 20 will come for dinner so there will be abundant food and laughter. Our celebrations are mostly low key – rather than fill them with events we tend to clear the space and follow our hearts.

13 years ago I followed my heart and stepped off an airplane to meet in-person this woman named Kerri. I’m so glad I did. Now, I could fill hundreds of paint buckets with slips of paper telling her of the many, many things I love about her.

Go here to visit my gallery site

read Kerri’s blogpost about TULIPS

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The Pizza Thing [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

My latest painting I did for Kerri. It is a painting of invocation. I did not paint it from knowledge or plan. I felt my way through it.

On the day I thought I’d completed the painting I asked her if she wanted me to make any changes. After staring at the image for a few minutes she said, “I love it,” and then asked, “But what’s up with the pizza thing?”

In the many art openings I’ve had in my life I’ve learned that what I paint is rarely the whole of what a viewer sees. I used to be surprised by what others saw in my paintings but now I expect it.

“Pizza thing?” I asked.

“You know, the thing they use to put pizzas in the oven. A paddle.”

“Where is it?”

She pointed to a series of connected shapes on the canvas.

Once someone sees something in an abstract image – like a dragon in a cloud – they can never again not see it. I knew the painting was not-yet-done. She would always see a pizza paddle in the painting if I didn’t alter the shapes. “Do you want me to change it?” I asked. She nodded, afraid I was offended.

It is the great challenge of perception: people rarely look in the same direction and see the same thing. We do not share experiences until we…share them, talk about them, compare notes, come to a common perceptual ground.

A younger me would have defended the painting as I saw it. This older version of me feels no need to defend what I see since I don’t expect others to see what I see. I want to learn what they see. I want to step into a common ground, a space of collaboration. That doesn’t mean that I necessarily must change the painting. It does, however, afford me the opportunity to make it better if I so choose, if my question, “What do you see?” actually opens my perspective.

It’s why I feel the need to shout into the winds of our current political and national circus. It is unimportant whether or not we see eye to eye. It is most important that we share notes, ask questions, discuss discrepancies…discern what is fact from what is fiction. We have to want to step into common ground.

When we walk she often stops and aims her camera at the ground. “What do you see?” I ask.

She snaps the photo and shows me the screen. “A heart,” she smiles. “Do you see it?”

“Now, I do.” I say. I would have stepped over the stone and never seen the heart. And aren’t I fortunate to walk through life with someone who is surrounded by hearts and takes the time to show me what I do not see?

In Dreams She Rides Wild Horses (finished, without the pizza thing)

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEARTS

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