The More Difficult Path [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

As her parting words when it was time for us to go, Beaky always said, “Be kind to each other.” She said it more as a wish or a prayer than as wise counsel.

In this latest era, we’re hearing a lot about hate speech. I believe Beaky’s farewell sentiment came from the experience of a long life: she knew that hostility and indifference are easy. Meanness is low hanging fruit, easily picked. Kindness, on the other hand, requires dedicated intentionality. It is a mandate to relinquish senseless power games.

Her parting words might as well have been, “Be conscious. Give your attention to each other.”

In the school of “Your Words Matter,” there is a clear distinction between the language of violence and the language of benevolence: hate speech rejects personal responsibility. Kindness requires an embrace of personal responsibility.

It is easy to point a finger and spew word-bile. It is satisfying to score a point and walk away. Demolition is elementary. It requires no special talent or skill.

Decency, kindness, generosity…considering the impact of words and actions on others – is certainly the more difficult path. To be aware of the impact of words and actions takes…well…awareness. Awareness and concern for others takes courage, strength and resolution – and is nothing less than the blossom of respect for your self.

With some corrections, it is finished: 66&19, 31.5″x36″ mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about the DAISY BUTTON

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Greet The Messenger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.” ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

Lately we’ve been walking an out-and-back that takes us south along the water. The turn around point is the Southport Beach House. It is a sacred place for us; ten years ago, on a beautiful October day, we held our wedding reception there.

Although not consciously intentional, there is something essential about our near-daily walks to the beach house. As we approach our tenth anniversary, we find that we are reaching back. In reminiscing, we make contact with our origin story. We are appreciating the distance we’ve traveled, the hardships we’ve endured, the support we’ve enjoyed, and the profound changes we’ve realized.

In our time together, life has taken a hard rock to our shell and we are better for it. We are more capable of standing in fire. Try as it might, circumstance cannot pull us from center. We know how to discern substance from nonsense. We are no longer in a hurry “to get there” and are more than content “to be where we are”.

A seagull stands watch on the light post. It’s greeted us each time we’ve take the steps down to the beach on the path circumnavigating the beach house. In symbol, a seagull represents “the spirit of exploration and boundless freedom”. I like what that bodes. I have come to expect to meet this messenger on our path and why not?

I’ve had plenty of experience focusing on the hardship and bemoaning the pain. Why not now expect to meet each day the spirit of exploration? Why not assume boundless freedom? Isn’t this the very realization that now pours forth, the understanding that was once imprisoned in the hard armor that our life-pain has opened?

Take Flight on the album This Part of the Journey © 1998 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SEAGULL

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Grok The Rule [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“A good poem looks life straight in the face, unflinching, sincere, equal to revelation through loss or gain.” ~ David Whyte

A good rule of thumb in the visual arts: areas of high contrast, in color-or-value, come forward while areas of low contrast retreat. Landscape painters use this rule to create the illusion of foreground and distance. Abstract painters use this rule to move the eye around a composition.

Storytellers and poets use the same rule. High contrast creates interest. It grabs attention. Low contrast sets the environment, the mood. “Some kind of relaxed and beautiful thing/ kept flickering in with the tide/ and looking around./ Black as a fisherman’s boot, with a white belly…” Dogfish by Mary Oliver.

Misused, it’s the rule-behind-the-reason that most of our news is “Breaking News!” False contrast. Hype. It’s the reason our national portrait is continually painted as divisive. High contrast pulls focus. The money follows the ratings so attention-grabbing is highly prized. Low contrast – like agreement, collaboration, sameness, community…truth – doesn’t generate the same level of interest or income.

Like all rules, there are worthy reasons to wield them. In the arts, the contrast principle is used to illuminate unity. To break an individual through to the experience of something bigger. To open questions. In our news-of-the-day, the rule is used to whistle a song-and-dance of discord and distraction. To separate into tribes. To manufacture the illusion of depth while sitting in shallow water.

The reasons to wield the rule are diametrically opposed.

It was a sad day when the young man, standing in our living room, told me that he would educate his child at home. His reason? He didn’t want his son to be stuffed with ideas. “Just the facts,” he said. “Just the facts.”

“Poor souls,” I thought of this man and his young child. How will they ever stare into the fiery face of democracy – an ongoing idea born of high contrast and wild ideas – the artistic kind, meant to bring people together in one nation under every possible god – like a poem. They won’t recognize democracy’s death when without question it slips like ashes through the fact of their fingers.

As for me, I’ll stick with the high and low contrast of Rumi, MLK, Shakespeare, Kahlil Gibran, Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou…

“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” ~ Rumi

[another worthy rule of thumb: never read the headlines prior to writing a post. All the icky-mush rushes to the foreground and permeates my brain]

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOG

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buymeacoffee is a counterintuitive, highly appreciated, offering of support amidst a high contrast environment that keeps the artists among us hopping and hoping.

Both/And [on KS Friday]

“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” ~ Kahlil Gibran

Dwight sent a book to me: From Strength to Strength by Arthur C. Brooks. Several months ago at dinner we talked about how to make this next chapter of life the best chapter. As is my practice lately, I am reading it slowly, taking my time. I used to read like a hungry man eats; I gobbled information. Now I savor. I take one bite at a time and taste all of it. Someday soon we will talk about what I am discovering in the book. I’m only a few chapters in and already I’m rethinking my choices, considering different paths moving forward.

Pondering my next steps has also been an exercise of looking at where I’ve been. A lyric from Dan Fogelberg just ran through my mind [The Last Nail, by Dan Fogelberg]:

I left a trail of footprints deep in the snow
I swore one day, I would retrace them
But when I turned around, I found that the wind had erased them
Now I’ll never replace them

With distance it’s easy to see that some of the worst choices I’ve made in my life have also been the best choices I’ve made in my life. I can see that my desperation brought innovation. I can see the prison I made of my judgments and the hard truths necessary to unlock my cell door. I can see I needed a broken heart to arrive at an open heart.

With distance, I’m beginning to understand that no single experience lives in isolation. No day is either “good” or “bad.” No single period of my life defines the worth or wealth of my time on earth. No title, like “artist,” can wrap its fingers around the totality of my time. I am all of those things and none of those things.

On Monday, we interred Beaky’s ashes. She is with Pa in the national cemetery. We sang a song and then an attendant closed the niche. A journey’s end. Later that day I jumped off the back of a couch into a pile of pillows with a two year old, laughing, wiggling our toes. This wild-child is in full discovery mode, everything an adventure. A journey’s inception.

This life is achingly beautiful, each and every moment.

The entire 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 DIVOTS

Follow Your Bliss [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“And now you ask in your heart, “How shall we distinguish that which is good in pleasure from that which is not good?”/ Go to your fields and your gardens, and you shall learn that it is the pleasure of the bee to gather honey of the flower,/ But it is also the pleasure of the flower to yield its honey to the bee./ For to the bee a flower is a fountain of life,/ And to the flower a bee is a messenger of love, /And to both, bee and flower, the giving and the receiving of pleasure is a need and an ecstasy.” ~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet [Pleasure]

Yesterday was a rough day. We awoke to some disturbing news. Kerri cried. And, for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically, DogDog and BabyCat were by our sides. It occurred to me, as DogDog rolled over for his 15th belly-belly of the day, that he was making himself available for a pet, not only because it felt good to him, but because it felt good to me, too. He was helping me to feel good. BabyCat was glued to Kerri’s leg. They decided to divide and comfort.

When we first found DogDog at Farmer Don’s, I dove into multiple books by the Dog Whisperer. It had been an eternity since I had a puppy and felt like I needed some guidance. I read that dogs (and cats) are master-aura-readers. They know what we feel before we know what we feel. It’s true. When DogDog runs into the bathroom, his safe spot, I know there is a storm brewing.

BabyCat has claimed one of DogDog’s toys. He rubs his face on the ribbed fabric and literally moans with pleasure. The first time we heard his pleasure-moan, we thought he was in pain. We ran to find him soaking up the single sunny spot in the house, rubbing his face on his toy, unapologetic in his bliss.

We watched him and laughed. His ecstasy was so simple and pure. The warmth of the sun. The satisfaction of the scratch. His pleasure gave us pleasure. It also gave us pause. “Dibs on the sunny spot when BabyCat is through,” I said. “Good luck with that,” Kerri smiled.” BabyCat, like most retirees, follows the sun.

Vicarious-bliss-sharing is one thing. Leaving the sunny spot is a bridge too far, even for our empathetic B-Cat.

read Kerri’s blog post on BLISS