Be In It [David’s blog on KS Friday]

It is tempting in times like these to just-try-and-get-through-it. I daily remind myself to not throw away my limited time on this earth. Rather than just-get-through I want to be fully-in-it.

No matter what devastation, what havoc and chaos the current administration wreaks on the nation, the ugliness of ICE, the incessant assault on our rights, the sunrise is not to be missed. Dogga wakes us each morning at first light. We hear his gentle clackity-clack, paws on the hardwood floor when he is awake and ready for his old-dog breakfast.

The smell of coffee brewing. The sun on my face. The taste of a tomato plucked from our vine. Fresh cut basil leaves. An evening walk through the marina. A day that I will never ever live again. I do not want to get through it. I want to immerse in it, all of it.

I want to feel enraged at the corruption and abuse. I want to feel shocked at the hypocrisy. I do not want to delude myself that it cannot touch me. Other people’s pain.

I want to fully appreciate the person who reached the top shelf in the grocery store for the elderly woman in the scooter. I want to savor the music in the park and my community that gathers to enjoy it. The extraordinary in the ordinary. The message, a reminder, chalked on the path adjacent to a bench, “Sit down and enjoy the view.” Don’t fall into the trap of just getting through. Sit down. Feel the cool breeze coming off the lake. Allow yourself to marvel at the color of the sails glowing orange and pink in the sunset.

THE WAY HOME on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1998 Kerri Sherwood

Find Kerri’s albums here or streaming here

read Kerri’s blogpost about ENJOYING THE VIEW

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Look At Them Now [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Kerri hit the nail on the head. “Most people wouldn’t do this,” she said. “They’d think it was the same. They’d be bored” True. Too true.

She made her observation while we were walking our usual trail. We don’t walk it everyday but often enough to call it “ours” or “the usual.” Although we walk the same trail, to us it is never the same. Never. For instance, a few days ago the Mayapples bloomed. A single white flower hides beneath the leafy canopy. Last week we checked but the flowers hadn’t yet appeared. They’ll be gone by Father’s Day, the flower and the plant, just as the mystery cowboy told us. Walk the same path long enough and you’re likely to converse with a mystery cowboy.

It’s an exercise in seeing. Or, perhaps, it’s an exercise in not taking the surrounding world for granted. It is constantly moving. Dynamic. A crane flew right over our heads! The turtles are barely visible buried in the mud of the river. Tender green shoots broke through the devastated landscape and now, only a few weeks later, a blanket of vibrant viridian covers the forest floor. Tiny purple and blue flowers soon followed. The honeysuckle have now made an appearance. The thunderous frog song has all but disappeared.

And then there is the light. Dear god, the light. The colors shape-shift as the sun moves across the sky. The cloudy days evoke entirely different tones. There’ a reason filmmakers call the impending sunset “golden hour.” The winter palette is a world away from the summer hues.

We hold hands. We walk slow enough to see, slow enough to immerse. Slow enough to give our attention to the unique-within-the-same. Each day uncommon. Seeing it is a practice of challenging the assumption of “sameness.”

The practice of the trail has become the practice of our lives – or vice versa. Move slow enough to see. Pay attention. Give attention.

Across the yard from the farmhouse porch stand two guardian trees. “Look!” she exclaimed, running to show me the latest photo. “They’re so amazing,” she said, showing me the growing series. “They’re entirely different in the morning than they are in this light…” she said, turning her focus and camera back to the trees. “Geez! Look at them now!”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREES

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