A Fragile Thing [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“A new idea is delicate. It can be killed by a sneer or a yawn; it can be stabbed to death by a quip and worried to death by a frown on the right man’s brow.” ~ Ovid

I continue to replay in my mind the moment that the young man, the expectant father, told us that he intended to home school his child. He said that he didn’t want his child’s mind filled with the wild ideas peddled in public schools. He wanted his child to know-only-the-facts. Just the facts. I’ve previously written about this so it clearly continues to bother me.

I wanted to tell him that democracy is not a fact. It is an idea. It bothers me that I didn’t say what I was thinking. I wanted to tell him that he was being fooled by leaders who want to keep his child – and all people – ignorant. Learning – education – is about the pursuit of questions and active engagement with ideas. It is not about the-facts-in-isolation.

I wanted to tell him that the quickest way to numb a mind is to steep it in isolated facts. Solving difficult problems, facing complex challenges, is predicated upon the capacity to entertain ideas. It’s not so easy to gaslight a populace that regularly exercises their power to question. Gaslighting is a snap with people who’ve been schooled to rely on just-the-facts, especially when the “facts” are crafted by the wily fox. Facts-in-isolation permit folks to wield words like “socialism” like a weapon with no real understanding of the sword that they swing. It’s been a useful Republican scare-word since the 1950’s because very few who brandish the word understand what it actually represents. Understanding requires the ability to ask questions, to compare, to contrast, to consider. To doubt.

Ideas are dynamic. Facts are static. Minds are dynamic but can too easily be made static.

“Democracy’s a very fragile thing. You have to take care of democracy. As soon as you stop being responsible to it and allow it to turn into scare tactics, it’s no longer democracy, is it? It’s something else. It may be an inch away from totalitarianism.” ~ Sam Shepard

Relative to the history of the world, democracy is a new idea. Like a new-born, it is delicate and requires nurturing and constant attention. It requires the constant feeding and stimulus of a curious mind. Today, we find ourselves, the stewards of democracy, an inch away from totalitarianism. We are witness to the realization of a Republican dream: the dismantling of the Department of Education, a war against our colleges and universities waged to eliminate the pursuit of ideas in favor of the state-approved facts.

Democracy is a fragile thing. It’s a new idea and the new idea is delicate. Its genius is to question, to compare and debate. It renews itself through collaboration and compromise. It pursues a more perfect union knowing that it can never arrive there since it is an idea, not a place or achievement. Democracy, like all vital ideas, is a relationship that requires tending.

It haunts me, what I wanted to say to the new father but did not: it is no small choice to stifle a questioning mind in favor of a pre-approved fact. This might be a good time to question what you think.

read Kerri’s blog post about A FRAGILE THING

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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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An Unearthing [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” ~ T.S. Elliot, Little Gidding

It is not so simple to Be You.

I’ve yet to meet a person who knows without question, without doubt, who they are.

That is not a flaw. It is a given since we are not a piece of furniture, not a thing or an end result. We are so much more. An unearthing. A discovery.

We are human beings. Questioners. Questions.

We are both seeker and sought. We are both archeologist and vast hidden city.

Of course, that is not the meaning behind the message stitched on the rainbow hat. Be You is an affirmation of inner truth in the face of social pressure to Be Other than You.

There are other seekers – other people – who, in their fear of the unknown, attempt to define you. Confine you. They make rules, absolutes. They wish to stop the seeking.

Your difference is a disturbance in their rigid field of sameness.

They desire limited commerce and will only travel well-worn paths. They worship control – so controlling you, they believe, will keep them safe in their comfortable known. They would have you walk on their paved path. Color within the lines. Worship as they do.

Your difference shakes their cage. Your difference is a siren’s call to the scary edge of the unknown, to growth since growth is always in the direction of the unknown.

They quake. They fear your difference because they fear that they will disappear if they step toward the rim of learning: they fear what they will find in themselves – or have to admit to themselves – so they sail far away from the edges.

Be You? Just as others propel you forward in your discovery, just as resistance helps you discover the parameters and depths of your belief, your difference serves as a harbinger for others, a message in a bottle, calling them to the precipice of their greater archaeology.

What is over there? In there? Under there? Beyond? Me?

Is it an end? A beginning? And who will walk with me? Why?

As always, rather than a book of rules, a fistful of pat answers, is it not more useful – more honest – to ask and ask and ask a better question?

[Quinn called these The Big 3: Who am I? Where do I come from? What is mine to do? We never arrive at an absolute answer since we are a moving target, always growing in a relationship with the unknown. The point is not to nail down a forever-answer; the point is to be brave enough and open enough to continually ask the questions.]

GRACE on the album RIGHT NOW © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE YOU

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A Second Glance [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Look carefully and you will see the shadow that the dandelion cast upon the white petal.

Can you see the veining of the leaves? The watercourse way? The ridges in the petals serve the same life-giving purpose although by a subtly different, visibly beautiful design. Can you see it?

There is a small spot of purple. Can you find it? It pulls the eye. It provides the tension necessary for focus, inspiring movement of the eye.

Is the ant adventuring across the dandelion apparent at first glance? Like the spot of purple, it is there though probably not apparent at first glance.

At first glance. To the casual eye. On the face of it.

And then there is the purpose beyond the pretty. Do you see it? The petals of white, the yellow pistil attract pollinators in an attempt to perpetuate their species. The ant does not adventure for fun but for food.

Do you see the dried leaves supporting the green and white, the yellow and purple? Once green themselves, drinking the sun, they now provide sustenance to the next generation, warmth to the root.

It was the shadow of the dandelion cast that caught her attention.

It takes time to see the purpose beyond the pretty. It takes a longer second glance. Seeing – and understanding – interdependence takes more than a first glance. It requires some learning. Observation. Study.

My father used to tell me that I’d educated myself into stupidity. I did not take it personally as I knew that he was captive to the fox. He knew, as do I, that the fox is dedicated to the superficial. He was schooled by the fox to believe that looking beyond the superficial, a thing called “learning”, was a worthless thing. The fox preaches simple idiotic solutions. Build a wall. Deport without due process.

Critical thinkers and active questioners are less likely to eat the smorgasbord of drivel and easy conspiracy served up as sustenance by the fox. The fox relies on the superficial. The fox defends against a second glance. The fox talks fast, a carnival barker, enticing people into the tent with freak-show promises, bearded ladies and conjoined twins, performances guaranteed to shock the most hardy of viewer.

Every carnival barker knows that a longer second glance would shed some light on the subject. It would reveal the make-up, the spirit gummed whiskers, the hollow dumbbells of the strongman. A little study would reveal the purpose: outrage in exchange for your nickel.

The only way to keep the viewer in the tent is to escalate the outrage. Keep them solidly in their reptile brain. The only rule? Never ever provide a second glance. Prevent at all cost a deeper look. Stigmatize learning. Undermine fact. Distract. Gaslight. Blame. Assault education. Oh, and never ever pass up a chance to charge another nickel.

Look carefully and you will see the shadow…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SHADOW

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One Basic Choice [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I heard this phrase this morning: supra partisan. Transcending party. I heard the “supra partisan” phrase relative to 400 historians – of all political backgrounds and stripes – endorsing Kamala Harris and Tim Walz. Their message: the urgency of the moment requires all of us to transcend party and vote for country. We’ve not seen a threat to our existence as a democracy like this since 1860.

Their statement is not hyperbole. The threat posed to our democracy by maga and their aspiring dictator is undeniable. It is historic. It is on our doorstep.

In maga-land, the patterns and lessons of history are threatening precisely because they reveal maga as a fascist movement. It is the reason that their Project 2025 blueprint includes the elimination of the Department of Education. Currently, they are banning books and waging a war on the nation’s libraries. They desire a willing and ignorant citizenry who will without question give over their rights – give over their minds – and follow the lies and whims of the great leader. No debate. No opposition. No questioning. No choice. No thinking. No voice.

No freedom.

A familiar quote comes to mind:

“Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.” ~ George Santayana

This election should be a no-brainer but, alas, it is not. On Tuesday we will demonstrate that a majority of us have paid attention, learned from history, and vote to preserve our democracy. Or, that a majority of us chooses to ignore history and willingly, intentionally, vote to goose-step into the well-worn and well-known fascist horror story.

It all boils down to one very basic choice.

read Kerri’s blogpost about ONE CHOICE

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I Wonder [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” ~ James Baldwin

Our Melange posts generally begin with a visual prompt, usually one of Kerri’s recent photographs. Today, for the first time in our Melange history, she offered me a quote. The photograph, the stone heart, came second.

My dad used to tell me that I’d educated myself into stupidity. He was, of course, regurgitating the sentiments of his fox-news source; those were not his words or his thoughts. He was an educated man, early in his life a schoolteacher, yet his entire life he yearned to return to the simple life he remembered, growing up in a small town in Iowa. His yearning was sincere and pervasive. He was kind to his core and generous to everyone he met. He had no idea what to do with the complexity of the contemporary world and so he found solace in rejecting it.

One of my cherished memories of my dad was the day we spent in the cemetery of his small town. He was far down the road of dementia and wanted to visit his beloved small town one last time. I was taken aback that he had no desire to wander the streets but wanted, instead, to wander through the graves – so that is what we did. He’d point to a headstone and tell me the story of the person buried there. To him it wasn’t a graveyard, it was a reunion. He could not remember what he ate for breakfast but he remembered in vivid detail the people that populated his young life, the names on the headstones.

My dad worked most of his life as a foreman of a concrete construction company. His crews were mostly illegal immigrants. For a few summers I worked on his crew and I have never been more proud of him – or learned more from him – than I did watching his dedication to the men who worked for him. He understood their plight, he valued their hard thankless work, and they were as loyal to him as he was to them.

I can only imagine what he would think of the rhetoric of mass deportation, the radical dehumanization of the men he spent his life working with, the racist lies. I wonder if his yearning for simplicity would cloud his perspective or would he recognize the ugly authoritarianism masked in the maga mass-deception.

He was, at his core, kind. Generous. I cannot imagine he would sign on to the oppression and denial of basic humanity that runs rampant through the maga rhetoric. And, since I am “woke”, a progressive, a man dedicated to learning and asking questions, a believer in open minds and hearts, I am now one of the vermin populating the fox-maga-storyline. I doubt he would sign on to that.

I wonder, if we were sitting on the patio drinking a beer, if he’d question, as I do, how his rural America, his imagined simplicity, became so ugly, so lost in the rantings of a fascist. So un-American.

I wonder if he, from his resting place in the graveyard, wishes now for a better story for his small town, for all small towns – the story of generosity and kindness he remembered as hallmarks of the people who populated his early years, the people and narrative who shaped him, his goodness, his life.

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 OPPRESSION

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Make Room for “Wow!” [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Trying to define yourself is like trying to bite your own teeth.” ~ Alan Watts

My inner schoolmarm just marched me to corner where I now sit wearing the dunce cap. Apparently I have been taking myself too seriously. I am confused since I started my campaign for serious-thinking after last week when I was marched to the corner and made to sit wearing the same dunce cap for not being serious enough! My inner schoolmarm is hard to please!

Quinn used to talk about course corrections – learning – as smart-bomb behavior. Rather than “ready-aim-fire” he suggested the correct sequence was “fire-aim-ready”. Too much of life is wasted on the notion of readiness. Live-and-learn rather than learn-to-live.

I laughed aloud when I read the phrase on the wall of an airbnb: “Live your life as an exclamation rather than an explanation.” I wonder how much of my inner air-space has been dedicated to explaining my life choices to myself in the guise of imaginary conversations with others? Why do I spend so much time telling myself the story of myself? You’d think I have nothing better to do and no one else to talk to. I’d much rather fill my inner air-space with a constant, “Wow!”

That must be why I’m sitting in the corner. Perhaps my inner schoolmarm is not so unreasonable after all. She may have something of value to teach me. An inner “Wow!” is the response of someone who is looking out on the gorgeousness of the world. Focus out. A rolling inner explanation is self-absorbed. There’s no room for “Wow” amidst so much “MeMeMe.”

No wonder I currently don a dunce cap and sit by myself in this sad little corner!

Maybe wearing this silly dunce cap has nothing to do with my seriousness or lack thereof! Maybe, to escape my punishment, all I need do is ask, “How can I help?” Or, “Who can I help?” Or maybe I should look out the window at the autumn trees and witness the “Wow!”

Or, maybe I should sit here for awhile longer, invested in the impossible, and continue trying to explain myself to myself.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE THE GOOD

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Nine [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Just as no photo can adequately capture the scope and grandeur of Bryce Canyon, no words can adequately capture the story of these past years. Nine years ago today, 10.10.2015 at 11:11am, we stood before our community, we told the tale of Erle meeting Earl, we said, “I do”. We skipped out of the church just as we skipped out of the airport on the day we met.

10.10. at 11:11. Significant numbers. We are more numerologists than I realized.

I Googled the numerology of the number 9. A longer view. It represents completion – though not as finality – rather, the end of one chapter and the initiation of something new. It represents growth; a journey of learning. I read that 9 is a powerful, positive and significant number.

We are certainly on a journey of learning. Powerful and positive. And so, we celebrate the number nine. Completion and the initiation of something new. Appropriately, the portal to our initiation was the canyonlands, vast in scope and grandeur, impossible to capture.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRYCE CANYON

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“We Have A Problem.” [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Yesterday I opened the door to the basement and heard a waterfall – not the sound you want to hear coming from your basement. I knew it was a waterfall because two years ago I opened the basement door, heard the sound and asked myself, “What’s that sound?” I’m sharing this with you as proof-positive that I am capable of learning and retaining what I learn. This time, I knew without doubt – because I remembered – the cause of the sound. Waterfall.

The first time I heard the waterfall-in-the-basement-sound I could not imagine that the sound was water pouring from the ceiling. It was inconceivable since it had never happened before. I was ankle deep in water before I allowed the penny to drop. That’s the great thing about learning: greater efficiency in understanding the situation, fewer steps to right-action. This time I didn’t need to investigate. I simply turned and announced to Kerri, “We have a problem.” We knew exactly what to do. We knew exactly what our day held in store.

It’s a line. Past experience is useful in present and future choices. To ignore past experience – to ignore what we know – is called ignorance. I thought about the line between knowing and head-in-the-sand as I stared into the sky. Sometimes it’s a curse to see all-the-world as a metaphor. We stopped on the path so Kerri could take some photos of the storm line over the lake. It was distinct. The light behind the dark clouds was startling, hopeful.

Here’s what I thought while staring at the line in the sky: we had four miserable years with the maga-candidate as president. He left us a bloody mess. His time in office was a daily festival of chaos. He lied so liberally that media organizations initiated a daily count of his lies and instituted fact-checkers as a regular part of their reporting. He mismanaged the greatest health crisis in a century costing thousands of lives. He was impeached twice (side note: watch the new documentary From Russia With Lev and ask yourself how it was possible that he was protected by his party from impeachment).

Each day I ask myself, “How is it possible that people do not remember?” Of course, I know the answer – I’ve heard this sound before. We remember though many are choosing to ignore what they know. They feel it necessary to step into the ankle deep water again before admitting that there is a problem.

We are on the eve of an election. The maga-candidate is like a waterfall in the basement, seeping into and destroying everything. We’ve opened this door before. We know without doubt the sound. We’ve heard it before – we’ve heard it all before. The lies. The threats. The fearmongering. The blaming. We need not descend into chaos to know what’s happening – what will happen if he is elected.

That’s the great thing about learning: greater efficiency in understanding the situation, fewer steps to right-action.

Vote to stop the waterfall in the basement. We’ve already learned what will happen if we don’t.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LINE

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Be Better At Bad [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

I am painting very badly. It’s not a surprise. It’s been a while since I have consistently been in the studio so it will take a while to loosen up, to stop thinking about the next step. Artistry is not so different from athletics; it takes a while to get back into shape.

Previous iterations of myself would have felt badly for painting badly. That guy would have hidden his clumsy images and too-tight-brush-strokes. These days I’m better at being bad. I like the dance. I’m more interested in cultivating a healthy process so I’m less invested in how I look. How “it” looks. “Bad” is a process step, an opportunity to learn or laugh rather than the judgement that it used to be.

It’s easy to write about the necessity of throwing many pots or writing ten-bad-pages-to get-to-one-good-page. It’s another thing to do it. Celebration of the bad is a necessary step in finding flow. And, after such a long studio hiatus, flow is nowhere to be found. Artists do not train to clear a hurdle or master the pommel horse. Artists train for flow.

We nearly lost Breck-the-aspen-tree. We kept her in a pot for too long. And then we planted her in a place that was less than optimal. She withered so we quickly moved her to another spot. It was a guess since we thought the first spot was prime. That was three years ago and today she is thriving. She is as tall as the garage and growing fast. Her trunk is no longer pencil thin. It is robust, sturdy. Birds perch in her branches. Last year she was like a gawky teenager and produced weirdly sized leaves. This year she has come into her own.

Last week, after painting especially bad, suffocatingly tight and small-brush-clumsy, I sat outside with Breck. She asked me to remember her freakish leaves. She reminded me of the strange unwieldy branch that reached like a beanstalk above all the others. It was so unusual that we worried for her survival. We worried a giant might come looking for a goose. “Growth is tricky,” she said and quaked.

Yes. Growth is tricky. Sometimes it takes a chat with the aspen tree to remember to take a breath, reach for the sun and celebrate right where you are on the path.

County Rainy Day…in process. Too tight too soon…a step on the way to flow…

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read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

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