Naturally [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Before sleeping we usually watch thru-hikes, video journals of people walking the Pacific Crest Trail, The Continental Divide Trail, or The Appalachian Trail. The Hayduke. Early in their journey the hikers experience the unnatural aggression and excessive pace of regular life drop away and a more natural rhythm emerges.

They become different people as they begin to see other people differently. The steely individuality of their urban identity dissolves. The hikers realize that they need other people. They realize that they are dependent upon the kindness of strangers. In fact, they come to understand that without the support of others their trail-walk would be impossible to complete. They begin to rely on – to count on – kindness.

And they are rarely disappointed. The kindness that they hope for always appears. And, as they enter the reality – the necessity – of their interdependence, they more freely offer their support to strangers. They become the kindness others hope for.

Periodically the hikers come across trail angels; people who come to the trail with the sole intention of making life better for the hikers. The angels prepare food or snacks. They offer shade, a cool drink, a place to sit and rejuvenate. They give rides to town. Other angels make sure there is water available at caches across the desert. Others provide places to stay. Almost all of the trail angels were themselves hikers who were recipients of the extraordinary generosity of angels. So, they became angels for others. Naturally.

The hikers always speak fondly of the culture that exists on the trail. A culture of support. Most hikers, after they finish their months-long adventure, remark that their walk was made memorable, transformative, because of generous people they met along the way.

We watch thru-hikers because they give us hope. In a time of national darkness punctuated by ill-intention, self-serving oligarchs, the celebration of mean-spirits, cowardice…it is heartening to know that there is a community of people out there who’ve stepped into nature and out of the unnatural aggression of our nation, and what they find there – and find in themselves – is a natural reliance on others. A feedback loop of generosity. Kindness. People helping people, not for gain, but because they know the value of helping. It’s called humanity. They know that their walk in this life is made better – made more meaningful – by the dance of giving and receiving support, helping others and accepting a helping hand from others. Naturally.

Bridge 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 TRAIL

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A Real Stumper [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart….live in the question.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

I just learned something new. There are two definitions of the word poser. The first is familiar: an exhibitionist, an attention-seeker. To varying degrees social media has made posers of us all. Self-publicists. Perhaps that is why our politicians grand-stand at every turn: negative attention is still attention. Substance is no longer a requirement for dominating the news cycle. Every relationship a transaction.

The second definition took me by surprise: a difficult or perplexing problem. A brain-teaser. A riddle. An enigma.

It invoked the obvious statement: The current circus of political posers poses a real poser!

It’s a knotty problem. Vexed. A tough one to crack. Bad behavior, outrageous statements, outright lies… garner the attention, capture the media. The spotlight swings to the most despicable, the greatest train wreck, and since ratings-are-the-game, since “likes” are the prize, is it any wonder that we are on a fast track to the vapid bottom?

Truth, generosity, courtesy…are not the actions of a poser. Since they are their own reward, people who value these actions do not seek the spotlight. And, since the people who value these actions are generally focused on benefiting others – a surprisingly simple intention – they are not difficult to understand. Kindness is never a mystery. Good deeds are rarely puzzles. They are never transactions.

The poser-in-chief intends to eliminate all-things-woke and he needs to in order to achieve his transactional goals. Lies cannot stand up to truth. Meanness is laid bare when next to generosity. Common courtesy exposes the poser. Care for others throws a harsh light on our current national trajectory. Care for others must be vilified and removed if his authoritarian aims are to be successful.

What to do with this poser and his tribe of posers? It’s a real poser for we woke lovers of democracy and stewards of the tradition: of the people, by the people and for the people. It’s a tough one, a real stumper. And there is no better question – no more important question – for us to live-in, to ask in earnest so that, “…this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth” ~ President Abraham Lincoln, The Gettysburg Address, November 19, 1863

read Kerri’s blogpost about POSERS

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Earth School [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“It takes the brave to come here,” Shelly said, assuming our spirits come to this planet with the intention to learn and grow. We were discussing life-lessons. Earth school.

20 regularly reminds us that relative to many US citizens we are considered poor but relative to the majority of human beings on the planet, we are wealthy. We have sturdy homes. Heat. Clean water. Abundant access to food. “There’s a reason that so many people want to come here,” he says. Promise. Opportunity. A better life.

It’s all a matter of perspective and perhaps perspective is one of the most important things we learn in earth school. Without it gratitude is out of reach. Without it, empathy is null and void, self-righteousness runs amok.

When I was in my 20’s I worked on a concrete construction crew. It was very hard work. I worked alongside a Mexican man in his 50’s. We shoveled dirt. We hefted heavy equipment. We did not share a common language but early on he recognized I was working foolishly, too hard and too fast. He taught me to pace myself. He taught me to work smarter.

At night I went home to have a hot shower, eat my fill, and sleep in my own bed – while he went to a one bedroom apartment that he shared with 20 other people. He sent most of his wages home.

He was corralled in one of the immigration raids and sent back to Mexico. A few weeks later he was back shoveling by my side; a round trip journey of hundreds of miles, none of it in the comfort of an airplane or air conditioned car. He paid a coyote a king’s ransom to make the trip back to his job.

Can you imagine leaving your home, your family, your known world and with few resources, traveling to a place where you don’t speak the language, to a place where you are not wanted, to a place where you share an apartment with 20 other people – all so your family might eat and perhaps one day live a better life? He was typical. He was not a criminal. He was a father trying to feed his kids.

Earth school. I thought of that man when Shelly said, “It takes the brave to come here.” His lot was impossibly hard yet he whistled all day doing backbreaking work. He smiled. He considered himself fortunate. That man was brave. He was also kind. He was patient. He was living a onerous life that I cannot begin to imagine and doing it with a light heart because he knew that his labor might bring hope and opportunity to his family.

Earth school. I wonder how much courage it will take for us as a nation to one day look in the mirror, to come to grips with the distance between our espoused and lived values?

It takes no courage to exploit. To bully. To betray. To feign righteousness. To sit atop the pyramid while claiming victim-hood. Right now, our nation and its very weak and ill-intended leaders are a study in cowardice.

I suspect hard lessons, if not already here, are coming. Perhaps we will discover what it really means to be brave and, hopefully, we will remember what it is to work for the benefit of others rather than exploit them. Perhaps we will forge a light heart in our walk through fire. Perhaps gratitude and empathy will be in reach. Hopefully, we will remember what it is to be kind.*

*Gratitude, empathy, hope, care for others, inclusion…are all attributes of “woke”. I am woke and increasingly more and more proud of it. In this climate, it will take some courage to stand with the people and institutions being demonized, to speak truth to dedicated maga-sleep-walkers.

read Kerri’s blog about EARTH SCHOOL

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What Of Kindness? [David’s blog on Flawed Wednesday]

Kindness is not difficult to share within a friend-group or inner-circle. Kindness is easy with the people that you know. It’s the reason I’ve never met a person that did not consider themself kind. It’s the reason I consider myself kind. I can point to examples.

But what of kindness to those outside of the circle-of-the-known?

Lately I wonder if we can consider ourselves kind when our kindness is reserved; selective; picky.

This morning I read of a farmer who voted for the despot. He is astonished. With the sudden loss of USAID, the elimination of his market, he is losing his family farm. My first thought was not compassionate. My first thought was not kind. “You’re the only one who’s surprised,” I spat. “Idiot”.

What of kindness?

The farmer has been the recipient of government subsidies. He has had FEMA support after natural disasters. He is a veteran with benefits. His parents are on social security and Medicare. He has friends receiving Medicaid. Now, he fears the loss of these programs. Before the election he wore his red hat, pumped his fist and voted for the end of government handouts. He saw no reason to support childcare for single mothers so they might go to work. He did not see himself as a receiver-of-help.

He didn’t want his taxes benefiting those who do not look like him. Those outside of his circle.

For years the farmer has been misled by the fox. And yet, I can’t help but acknowledge that he has participated in his ignorance. He could have asked a question. He could have changed the channel. The despot made no attempt to hide his plan. He was not a stealth candidate. Did the farmer not understand the word “tariff”? Did he not read Project 2025 and the cuts it promised? He lives in the age of readily available and easily accessed information.

Was he too lazy to care? Was he truly blinded by a campaign of foxy-lies? He’s certainly been steeped in an ugly boogeyman of US and THEM. He’s been choked on fear-tales, encouraged to paint himself as a victim of diversity-equity-inclusion. Might he have challenged what he was being force-fed? Yes. But he didn’t. He agreed with it.

Now, he will pay the piper for his choice. We all will. He voted for it. He chose it. Now he will experience it.

What of kindness?

As he discovers his folly, as he meets the stark truth of his choice, does he really deserve to lose his family farm?

What of taking responsibility for the consequences of his choices and actions? He voted for hatred. He voted for indecency and amorality. He voted for misogyny and bigotry. It was not hidden from him. He posted signs on his fence proclaiming his proud allegiance to the despot.

Now, he and his family must rely on the social safety net that he has demonized as socialist. He voted for the safety net to be removed. Now that he needs it he has changed his tune. Soon, he fears, there will be nothing to break his fall.

Hopefully, he will learn – as will we all – that THEM is US. Before we are conservative or progressive, we are citizens of this nation. Together. WE. And we are a diverse community.

Friendly. Generous. Considerate. Descriptors of kindness. Perhaps, through his revelation, when he understands he is – and has been – the recipient of kindness, when helping hands (again) reach and assist him to stand, to survive, he will be more willing and able to extend kindness to others, to people who do not look like him.

Perhaps he will understand that a government is capable of helping all people to rise just as it is now crippling the majority for the sake of a few.

Perhaps in the future he will vote for kindness and equity that extends beyond his inner-circle. Kindness, he will learn, is a crop that is planted and cultivated. To reap the harvest, to experience it, one must first vote for it. One must first choose it. And then pass it on.

read Kerri’s blogpost about KINDNESS

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Beyond Measure [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Just as we had the first time we met thirty five years ago, we talked of intuition and prophesy, past lives and future hope. We discussed the politics of the day. We shared our appreciation for art, music and theatre. Our conversation ran amok over the geography of our lives, trying to catch up on all that transpired in the many years since we last saw each other. As always, there was not enough time.

For some reason her photograph of the water running across the airplane window made me think of ancestors. A protective web of well-wishers, a buffer of safe-keeping while hurtling through the air. Ever present. I imagined what Leonardo da Vinci would do if he were sitting in my seat. He made many, many drawings of contraptions that might someday allow humans to fly. A yearning; his mind fully immersed in the field of possibility. Stuffing ourselves in planes, we forget how much we take for granted. Leonardo, traveling in coach, would be beside himself.

We returned home a day early. A text from the airline warned of coming storms and travel disruption. It was a good decision. A few hours after we landed the snow came. On the drive home we shared stories of being stuck in airports. Our stories were populated by kind strangers. Angels who helped.

20 prepared hot soup for our return. Dogga met us at the door, bouncing with enthusiasm. Four bags of groceries arrived, a surprise welcome home gift from Jen and Brad. Supplies to get through the storm. We reviewed Kerri’s photos from the trip. We ate, sipped wine and regaled 20 with travel stories.

Later, exhausted, crawling beneath the quilts, she said, “The best part of travel is coming home”. My last thought drifting into sleep, Dogga gently snoring at our feet: “We are rich beyond all measure”.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TRAVEL

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Whisper A Prayer [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

It takes a lot these days to clear my mind and heart of the malfeasance and how it already impacts our daily life.

Malfeasance, (noun): wrongdoing; especially by a public official. Or many public officials.

We had to change concourses to catch our connecting flight. Kerri put on her mask before entering the crowded train. A man approached her and mock-coughed on her. He thought he was being funny.

Malevolent (adjective): having or showing a wish to do evil to others. From the Latin, a root meaning “violent wishing”.

“Can you believe he did that?” she asked as we exited the train.

“I think we better get used to it.” I said, “The a**holes have been given a green light.”

Our dear friends drove us over a snowy pass to the shores of Lake Tahoe. Kerri had always wanted to see it. As she does whenever she sees beauty, she cried. “It’s gorgeous,” she whispered again and again. She feels the beauty.

We stopped at a beach to take photos. A cool day, I stood in the sun, warming myself, a gentle breeze rippled the surface of the lake. Quiet mind. Open heart. There’s nothing like standing on the shores of a miracle of nature. Crystal clear water reflecting snow capped mountains. It’s an instant perspective giver:

We will come and go. This era of human folly will come and go. The beauty will remain no matter the wishes we make, evil or otherwise, vicious or virtuous. Relative to the life of the lake, we are a blip, barely a blink of the eye.

Within our blip I wonder at the mind and heart that finds humor in hurting others when they have the option to help. I wonder at the heart that fills itself with hostility rather than drinks from the well of kindness.

To hurt or to help? To persecute or to assist? They seem to be the questions of our nation, of our time.

Standing on the shore in my blip of time I was eternally grateful to have my heart and mind, and not to live inside the sad angry brain of the coughing man. For him – for me – and for all of us – I whispered the Buddhist prayer: May you dwell in your heart. May you be free from suffering. May you be healed. May you be at peace.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LAKE

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

It’s like taking a drink of water from a fire hose. And that’s their control-strategy. Gish gallop. Muzzle velocity. Insanity inundation.

When faced with a fire hose of malice, the best defense is a suggestion from Master Marsh: turn off all the devices for a day. Take a break. There’s plenty of generosity and beauty all around and it’s readily available when not being drowned out. Talk about that. Take a drink from the welcome spring of acts-of-kindness. Warm your heart with friendship. Laugh. Rejuvenate your spirit in dedicated quiet. Rest.

The ugliness will still be there tomorrow.

read Kerri’s blogpost about REST

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Step Into The Path [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“When living simply, most people’s problems were part of the breathing and functioning of The Big Picture of life, for which few humans, if any, had a large enough vision or imagination to comprehend.” ~ Martin Prechtel, Long Life Honey in the Heart

Our snake plant has easily tripled in size since we brought it home. It resides on the deep window sill in our living room and will soon outgrow its nook. We tease about cutting holes in the ceiling to accommodate its astounding reach. It is a constant source of inspiration; sometimes it seems like an alien being, sometimes kelp-like and belongs in the ocean, often the light-play on its leaves makes Kerri run for her camera.

“To the Tzutujil, people were not put into this world to have a good time; they were put here to be beautiful.” ~ Martin Prechtel

Following the recommendation of Horatio, I have been painting crap for weeks. To be clear, I haven’t been painting crap – that would be odd – rather, my work has been crap. Making messes. Rather than brushes I’ve been using rags and scraping tools. Wiping off, covering over, finger painting. It’s freeing.

My studio is a sanctuary where I can, for a little while, forget what is happening in-and-to our nation. Each day I read or receive an email with these questions: What is happening? What is going to happen? The first is easy to answer: our democracy is being systematically dismembered. The second is impossible to know.

I remembered a play titled The White Rose. It chronicles the arrest and ultimate execution of students from the University of Munich who protested against and resisted the Nazis. It prompted me to Google what the German people did to resist the rise of Hitler. It might surprise you to learn that the German people did not go quietly into the fascist dark night.

“How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world.” ~ Anne Frank

Do you remember the pro-Democracy protests in Tiananmen Square and the man who stood in front of a tank? Not all people have had freedom of speech, a free press, a society striving for social equality, the privilege of voting…they would die – and have died – for what we have taken so for granted that it is now, by popular vote, being stripped away.

The potential loss is too great to comprehend.

Did you learn about The Selma Marches* in school? Black Americans were being prevented from voting. Thousands of non-violent protesters marched and were met by violence. It was a seminal moment in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. We have in our history great examples of courage in the face of thuggery. John Lewis. Martin Luther King. Rosa Parks and Liz Cheney are cut from the same cloth.

Empowered people empower others. What is going to happen? What we allow to a happen.

Anne Frank wrote from her hiding place, “In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.” Kind and gentle spirits need not be passive or alone. They can join hands and march. Together they can face-down the corruption and indecency. They can harbor the persecuted. They can step into the path of an oncoming tank and with their courage touch the heart and shared humanity of the world.

*No matter what history the current administration attempts to erase, it is Black History Month and the history of the United States is rich with people of courage who faced incredible resistance to preserve and forward the ideals of democracy.

detail of a painting in progress: can you see her face?

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNAKE PLANT

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A Joining With [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I had a minor revelation (again) while we were working on this cartoon. What’s the question we ask when we go to the dictionary to look up a word? We ask, “What does it mean?” The operative word is “it”.

English speakers are bound by the word “it.” “It” magically, unconsciously, turns everything into an object. A thing. A thing to be pursued, chased, grasped. Found. Possessed. Bought. Sold.

Hope. Happiness. Kindness. Aspiration. Desire. Yearning…Love.

And what if “it” can’t be found or bought? What if “it” can only be tended, nurtured, like a flame? What if “it” can only be shared. Felt. What if “it” wasn’t a “thing” – an object – at all? What if “it” isn’t a transaction?What if “it” is a warmth? What then?

Is it possible for me to give you hope? Or is it more likely that hope is how we experience the sunrise after a cold dark night? A dawning both inside and out. A joining with…

Regardless of what our language might lead us to believe, hope, like love, is a how, not a what.

I know this: if we could find “it” and wrap “it” and give “it”, we would. Our hope for this season? That “it” finds you.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUYING HOPE

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The Great Gift Of Purpose [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“In oneself lies the whole world and if you know how to look and learn, the door is there and the key is in your hand. Nobody on earth can give you either the key or the door to open, except yourself.” ~ Krishnamurti

In the United States of America, today is the day we give thanks. Imagine it! 364 days dedicated to dog-eat-dog grousing with one day set aside for thanks-giving. Envision for a moment a flip of our dedication: a single day devoted to complaining-and-selfish-taking with the entire rest of the year committed to gratefulness and appreciation.

Is it possible for gratitude and cherishing-others to be the norm?

Tom Mck’s grandfather told the story of two Civil War veterans who owned adjacent ranches. One vet fought for the north and the other fought for the south. They shot at each other every day creating a dangerous situation for the whole community since their ranches were on the road to town. Finally, no longer willing to dodge bullets just to go to the market, the community brought the two men together and negotiated an accord with them: the vets agreed to shoot at each other only one day a year, the same day each year. Their fellow citizens knew not to go to market on the auspicious day.

I thought about those two men this morning. Their entire reason-for-being was to hate each other. They gave to each other the great gift of purpose. An unspoken detail of the story, perhaps the most important aspect of the whole story, is this: none of the bullets they fired over many years ever hit the mark; they were either terrible shots or they didn’t really want to eliminate their reason-for-being. They intentionally missed. They loved to hate their neighbor.

It’s a complex game we play, is it not? The tale of the two Civil War vets is a story for our times.

Is the great-gift-of-purpose as easily given to loving, uplifting and supporting our neighbors? Is our capacity for generosity and consideration really so limited? Is there only enough for a single 24 hour period?

Is aggression and hate really more magnetic and satisfying than kindness and love?

Our nation chooses this day as Thanksgiving. Kerri’s and my wish for this troubled land on this day of laying down our weapons: a genuine flip of our dedication.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THANKSGIVING

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