Split Your Bark [on merely-a-thought Monday]

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Angels come in all shapes and sizes and Jonathan is my latest proof. Appearing from nowhere, disappearing into the ether, impossible to nail down on what he does each day (“I spent the day packing,” he says every-single-time-I-ask), he has an uncanny way of  dropping a much needed thought-bomb at just the right moment. Boom.

Lately, Kerri and I have been steeped in the angst and frustration of the latest inevitable drought that comes with an artist’s life. The well has run dry. There is no rain in sight. The Artist’s Almanac forecasts drought.  Feeling defeated we showed up at rehearsal wearing hang-dog faces and found angel-Jonathan already there, practicing his bass.  He greeted us with laughter and a smile. He regaled us with hysterically funny stories of his weekly foibles. He got us laughing. He transformed our self-pity and woe into a conversation about necessary change and growth.

That’s when he velvet-hammer-smacked us with the metaphor: trees must split their bark to grow. There is pain. Matter. Of. Fact.

Contrary to popular mythology, angels do not take away your pain. They do, however, help you see it for what it is: an experience of life. They punch through the horror story spinning out of control in your mind and guide you back to the present moment. There is growth so there are unknowns. There is today. “Isn’t it great!” he laughs. “You two kill me,” he says smiling.

Yep. Angel.

 

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angel at the well

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

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where’s chicken?

Reach [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Someone snapped their fingers and it is fall. Less than a week ago we skirted the Des Plains river trail, hugging the shade. We’d underestimated the intensity of the heat-humidity combination punch. “Are you dying?” Kerri asked. I nodded my head, too hot to answer. This morning, the air is cool and we are pulling out our flannel shirts.

With fall comes a sweet melancholy that usually creeps in slowly but this year, absent of any transition, I awoke fully awash in the seasonal sorrows. It is, oddly, like a warm blanket. An old friend that calls, “Remember me?”

Kerri tells me this melancholy is the feeling of time passing. It is the season of standing still and remembering. It is a reach to the past when the past feels like the autumn sun on your face. Turning toward the warmth, eyes closed, basking.

Haven’t you heard your elders say that the older you get the faster time moves? This morning, pulling my flannel shirt around me, I know that it is true. Time races. Time is relative to “the long body,” the entire span of a lifetime. With so much time behind me, so many memories, the road traveled seems to have passed in a blink. Life happens in the blink of an eye.

There’s no better reason to stand still, eyes closed, and reach for the sun as its rays reach for me.

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read Kerri’s blog post about REACH

 

 

 

 

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

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reach ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 

Savor Good Moments [on KS Friday]

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When you find yourself wondering what it’s all about, play this game: fill in the blank, “In this life I have….” Fill in the blank again and again and again, searching your memory banks for all the magic, mysterious, and miraculous experiences you’ve enjoyed. The good moments.

I like this game because, inevitably, I arrive at the realization that the good moments are the smallest of moments. Although swimming with whales or seeing the northern lights are miraculous, the really good good moments are first kisses, watching your baby sleep, holding hands after the storm passes. Laughing hysterically with friends just because.

Kerri’s composition, Good Moments, is a musical river of small moments, quiet yearning, tender touches, the smell of autumn leaves. Play the game and begin with Good Moments. It will transport you back. It will unlock the door to your memory bank. It will also help you realize that this moment – this very moment – is a very good moment, indeed.

 

GOOD MOMENTS on the album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about GOOD MOMENTS

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

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good moments/this part of the journey ©️ 1998 kerri sherwood

Ponder [on Chicken Marsala Monday]

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Socrates famously said (according to Plato), “The un-examined life is not worth living.” Too true.

All of my great teachers and  mentors where ponderers of life. They were artists. Pondering life is essentially what an artist does whether their pondering shows up as a painting, play, dance, or musical composition.

For me, the best time and place to ponder is while looking into a starry sky. There is no greater perspective-giver than infinity. Once, while sitting on the porch at the ranch with Tom, watching the stars emerge, sipping wine, he said, “You could never paint that.”

I said, “I wouldn’t even try!”

“He smiled, “Sure you would. What else is there?”

 

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read Kerri’s blog post about PONDERING LIFE

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

pondering life is a very useful thing to do ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Make Time For Clouds [on Chicken Marsala Monday]

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It seems almost too obvious: in clouds possibilities can be found. Castles take shape, cartoon characters roll into horses racing, dragons and dinosaurs. Loved ones whisper. Memories shimmer. Imagination beckons, intuition taps at the door. Ideas take shape.

Some might say that making time for clouds is a waste of time. Most likely those are people blind to the necessity of clouds. They are caught in a steely net, believing they have to make all the trains run on time. They believe wholeheartedly that they don’t have enough time to get it all done. Don’t tell them, but time is not concerned with train schedules or daily achievements. Time passes with no investment in our loss or gain. Time requires no management, middle, upper, or otherwise. Time is made of soft stuff, fluffy and relational, modifying according to the needs of its audience.

Time given to clouds makes Chicken wax poetic. It refreshes him. It quiets him. It reminds him that he, too, is as temporary as a cloud, ever moving, shape shifting through his passage, tickled when someone makes time to notice all the possibilities he inspires.

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read Kerri’s blog post about MAKING TIME FOR CLOUDS

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

make time for clouds ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Be Small [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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On a crisp fall day, watching the waves roll in at Pismo Beach, Jim told me that people come to the beach to touch their mortality. “The waves were here long before we were born. They’ll be here long after we are gone.”

It is only in the moments when we recognize how infinitesimally small we really are that we ‘re also capable of grasping how glorious, how profound, how immense are our fleeting few moments of life. It’s a paradox. It is a joining. Watching the waves, standing on the mountaintop, feeling the sunrise, holding your newborn. Boundaries blend with beauty so vast it makes you ache.

While in Colorado, we jumped the border into Utah for a day and visited Arches National Park. It is one of those places. I felt so incredibly small. I grabbed Kerri’s hand and the paradox door swung open. For a few moments, we were part of the monument, life burned so keenly, so intensely, we joined the timeless, and laughed at the utter impossibility of it all.

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read Kerri’s blog post about Arches

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

arches national park ©️ 2018 david robinson & kerri sherwood

Surf Uncertainty [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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I love this image. It is a visual of the burning point. For me, it captures a singular truth in life. You can’t control the wave, but you can learn to ride it. So, be in it. Ride it.

I can already hear Kerri in my mind saying, “What the heck does that mean?” Go outside tonight and look at the night sky. If you understand what you are seeing you might realize how little in this life you actually control. Mostly, in this moment of life, we surf the unknown, whether we recognize it or not. We can deny it or we can learn to ride the wave of constant change. Trying to control it is a recipe for misery.

Happiness ensues when you learn to distinguish between what you control and what you cannot. Surfing life is the art of riding the uncontrollable wave and enjoying the ride.

Enjoy SURF UNCERTAINTY gifts and products

read Kerri’s blog post on LEARNING TO SURF UNCERTAINTY

www.kerrianddavid.com

learn to surf uncertainty/designs ©️ 2016/18 david robinson & kerri sherwood