Find Hope [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

To say our weather has been weird is an understatement. It is February in Wisconsin and I’ve not yet used my snow shovel. I know that a mile or so inland there has been some substantial snow – some – but here, by the lake, not so much. We’re having rain and fog. Seattle in Wisconsin. The world just recorded the warmest January on record.

We just finished watching a three-part National Geographic series, Arctic Ascent with Alex Honnold. A scientific expedition across remote Greenland with two objectives: to gather data on climate change from arctic glaciers, and for Alex and his climbing team to make a first ascent of Ingmikortilaq, a wall 1000ft taller than El Capitan in Yosemite. Beautiful, extreme, unimaginable. Breathtaking. The lead scientist on the team, Heidi Sevestre, much to her surprise, finds hope in her research. Although the glaciers all around are melting at an rapid rate, the Daurgaard-Jensen glacier remains stable. “This glacier is holding on,” she said.

Holding on. Across time, human being have been brilliant at spoiling their nests. Societies disappear when they either pollute or exhaust their resources. Historically, we’ve rarely demonstrated the wisdom to change our behavior before losing it all. We are on track for a repeat performance, this time on a global scale, so it was curious that this single glacier, to date, was somehow impervious. Hopeful. “All is not lost,” Heidi Sevestre suggested.

Resilience. Tom used to tell me that he was often stunned by the resilience of some children. They were capable of transcending unimaginable odds, emerging from their fire with humor and balance and wisdom. “They give me hope for all of us,” he said.

Alex Honnold and Hazel Findlay, against all odds, climb an impossible wall. Heidi Sevestre finds impossible hope in the movement of a single glacier. “These are the people I want to emulate,” I tell Kerri. They are upbeat. Positive. Generous with each other. Generous because of each other. “These are the people who give me hope.”

read Kerri’s blogpost on FOG

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buymeacoffee is a bit of hope in a steep upward climb.

Find A Horizon [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Be not afraid of growing slowly, be only afraid of standing still.” ~ Chinese Proverb

Each morning, Kerri wanders outside to check her tomatoes. It is one of my favorite new rituals. I watch from the window as she steps out beyond the deck to the potting table, hands on hips, and scrutinizes the plants for newcomers. After a careful count she hurries back into the house to tell me the results of her count. Each day yields a new arrival. “There are ten!” she proclaimed this morning. Then, she took out her phone to show me the photos she’d taken. A family portrait of tomatoes. Miracles in the making.

Seasoned gardeners might not experience the same level of enthusiasm, but we newbies are wide-eyed at the little green orbs that show up overnight, at the basil plants spilling out of their pots.

It has already inspired new recipes. I blubbered on Sunday evening when I tasted the basil-and-tomato-saute over pasta. Food-that-makes-you-close-your-eyes-and-slow-down-so-that-you-can-savor-every-last-bit-of-it is high on my list of pleasures-to-be-cultivated.

We are learning. We are trying new things. We are setting up new spaces, rearranging furniture. At the same time, we are cleaning out, pulling bins from the basement. Sorting. Making space. The energy is moving.

In the past few years, our growth and learning has looked and felt like loss. Job losses, dear ones passing, broken wrists. Armor falling to the ground. Layers peeled. There’s nothing like time spent in the wilderness to put a fire beneath curiosity. When the questions are basic, “What do we do now?,” the available options are at the same time infinite and absent. There’s only one thing to be done and that is to keep moving. Find a horizon and walk toward it.

The tomatoes are harbingers. The season of losing layers may, at last, be done. There is now plenty of space for curiosity, for growing things. “What do we do now?” is still a question floating in the air. But, from our point of view, with the wasteland just behind us, we see the yellow buds and tiny green orbs as signaling a harvest to come. Hope. The energy is moving. A daily visit to the potting bench, rubbing basil leaves to enjoy the scent, seems like just the right amount of forward movement.

read Kerri’s blog post about TOMATOES

Close Your Eyes And Unfold [on KS Friday]

unfolding song box copy

Hopeful. Playful. Lighthearted. A birthday surprise. DogDog romping through a new snowfall.  Chasing the surf on a summer day. The discovery of a spring meadow in the middle of the forest. A good story told with an open heart. An evening of potluck dinner and laughter with friends.

Listen to UNFOLDING, as I do, with your eyes closed. Happy, life-giving memories and images will flood your being and lift your day. What could be a better gift to give yourself on this Friday.

 

UNFOLDING on the album AS IT IS available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about UNFOLDING

 

laughing website box copy

unfolding/as it is ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood