Touch The Liminal [on KS Friday]

I did not know the word columbarium: a room or building with niches for funeral urns to be stored. Each niche, a life. Or two.

Bruce just sent an article from The Atlantic, The Eerie Comfort of Liminal Spaces. The article helped me put my finger on the feeling I had the day we interred Beaky’s ashes. Row after row after row of niches. I was oddly comforted standing in the Florida sun between the rows at the columbarium. I felt ancient and that feeling surprised me.

Liminal spaces are threshold places. I turned my face to the sun and appreciated how, in this liminal space, all the trials and tribulations of life fell away. The divisions dissipate. Sisyphus sits in the boat in the underworld and watches all the souls wander on the beach, believing that they are all alone, until they play out all the worries in their minds. Once their stories are “told”, they see each other, gravitate toward each other, and join together, becoming a single bank of mist. From one form into an other.

In this resting place, I felt the essence of the threshold. The comfort of a liminal space. The rows and columns are for those of us on this side of the veil. On the other side, the need to seek or tell or feel is suspended.

I reached and wrapped my fingers in Kerri’s hand. It was glorious, this capacity to feel, so under-appreciated every day. Here, I knew without doubt that touch is the ultimate liminal experience. Thich Nhat Hahn offered a meditation I appreciate (I can’t recall the book) that begins, “Darling, I am here with you.”

That sums it up.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about COLUMBARIUM

legacy/released from the heart © 1995 kerri sherwood

Dream [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Sleep is hit or miss in our house. If it’s a miss for one, it’s a miss for all. Synchronized sleeping is rare.

Last night, Kerri woke me at 12:45. “I’m-up-you-up?” We ate snacks. We talked. Our midnight conversation lasted until 4am. In case you’re wondering, important stuff arises when talking through the night.

The downside of world-class-deep-night-chat is that morning arrives and it’s brutal. Coffee is not a luxury. I immediately invoke the no-power-tools rule. It’s important, when sleep deprived, to stay away from sharp objects or motor-driven-blades.

It’s good thing I don’t work in construction. These days I’d get very little accomplished.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DREAMS

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

Let It Rain [on DR Thursday]

We are reading Raynor Winn’s new book, Landlines. It is terrific. We make a cup of tea, get under a blanket on the old couch in the sitting room, Dogga asleep at our feet, and Kerri reads to me. Life does not get better than this.

A theme in the book is to put yourself in the way of hope. It has become my mantra for the turn of the year. Hope is coming through; stand in its path.

I started a new painting. I’ve been making sketches for a few weeks. It is the theme I snagged on when broken wrists and lost jobs stopped all artistic motion.: train through trees. As David Bayles and Ted Orland write, there is a difference between stopping and quitting. I stopped for a spell. Putting on my painter-clothes and descending into the studio felt like coming back into myself. Embodiment. As I lay out the composition and layered in some under tones, I felt as if air rushed into my lungs after holding my breath for too long.

We mimicked our smack-dab cartoon and took a midnight walk along Lake Michigan to bring in the new year. “Star dust is raining down on us,” Kerri said, in the first minute of 2023.

Stardust. Standing in the path of hope. A deep full breath. A good book and a warm blanket. A cup of tea. The excitement of rushing to photograph a train racing through the trees – and all things that inspire a painter to paint, a composer to compose, and two writers sitting side-by-side to capture their thoughts as the ritual beginning of each new day.

Life does not get better than this.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BUFFALO PLAID

Choose Awe [on KS Friday]

Of course, it’s not enough to appreciate the cloud-stripes that stopped our motion on the trail. I might have painted them in one of my pieces – for no other reason other than they are a cool pattern. Of course, I would have believed I was making it up. Imagination at its finest. But, in mid-trail, to peer up and see them painted on the sky-canvas sent us into a Google frenzy. You’ll be relieved to know that striped patterns in cloud formations are due to an oscillation called the Kelvin-Hemholtz instability. Phew! Not aliens or Van Gogh run amok, just ordinary old Kelvin-Hemholtz, unstable and oscillating. Again.

Nature continues to astound me. Nature continues to blow my imagination to new heights. As an artist, I am relieved knowing that I will never create anything as perfect or profound as what nature tosses up every minute of every day. There’s nothing left to do but play in these fields and appreciate the conversation. Since I am also a unique-form-thrown-up-by-nature, respecting the conversation, having deep gratitude for the moment, wouldn’t hurt.

Standing on the trail, watching the miraculous lines scratched into the blue-blue sky, I re-realized something important: Google might be able to explain it – which is no small feat – but explaining it, labeling it, putting it into a context-box also diminishes it. It gives us the illusion that we are separate from it; that we can control-it-by-rationalization. Visitors at the zoo.

Sometimes I think awe is a better path than explanation. I imagine that we might approach global warming, weather weirding differently, if we weren’t under the illusion that we could Google nature into submission. Awe is participatory, boundaries dissolve. I-am-that. Life beyond definition, beyond category and sub-category, glimmers.

Next time, I will opt for a few more moments of astonishment before reaching for my phone. Explanations and easy answers can wait their turn in line.

Lost. In the Questions ~ Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about STRIPES

lost. in the questions © kerri sherwood

Laugh Your Way Into Slumber [on saturday morning smack-dab]

Once again, instead of peacefully sleeping, the mother-lode-of-comedy rolled through my brainpan. If I could only remember, after the lights go out, to order a drink, sit back, and play audience to the nonsense that takes the stage-in-my-mind, I’d laugh my way into slumber. Seriously, what I think is funny.

I’ve read that a mind needs to be occupied with something. It doesn’t matter what the “something” is as long as it’s sufficiently occupied. Without some parameters, that monkey-mind will latch onto anything passing through and then whip it into a full-blown stand-up routine. I suspect that the person who first said, “Don’t take yourself too seriously,” arrived at their insight after several sleepless nights.

I’m putting a post-it note by the bed. It reads, “The joke is on you.” No, really. It’s on me.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SLEEPLESS NIGHTS

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

Retrace Your Steps [on KS Friday]

We completed the first loop and, rather than continue in the same direction as we usually do, we turned and walked the other way, retracing our steps. It was remarkable. Walking in the opposite direction seemed like a different trail altogether.

It is the way of memory. Take a walk backward in life through places you’ve already been. It is a different trail. Often unrecognizable. In fact, with each backward stroll, the path is surprisingly different depending on the reason for retracing your steps.

This is the season for retracing steps. Remembering people and places, tastes and smells. Kerri asked how we celebrated Thanksgiving when I was a boy. We spent the next several hours roaming through our forgotten lands. Some were delicious. Some painful. Some made us laugh.

I’ve been talking with Horatio and emailing with Rob about next steps. Where to go from here. This seems like a well-worn path: sudden job loss. Their advice is clear: do not walk the same path. Do not do the same old thing in the same old way. “My advice is mundane,” said Horatio.

As we set our eyes on a new trail, we also walk old paths in our minds. In order to avoid doing the same old thing -again – we must first see the loop that we’re on. Turning around and walking in the opposite direction seems prudent.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about STEPS

figure it out/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

KS Coming Through [on KS Friday]

Last night, in one of the great shocks of my life, Kerri began humming the theme song from The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. My dedicated Hallmark movie watching wife, deep in a story of snowy-christmas-romance, the predictable kiss impending, out of nowhere, hummed as if it was her favorite tune, the theme from a spaghetti western. Clint Eastwood flipped his poncho, bit his cigarette, crinkled his eyes.

For a moment I thought she was possessed. Ennio Morricone was coming through.

Humming, she never looked away from the screen, her eyes misted over with the inevitable conclusion. Two lonely people found each other against all odds in the final minute of the movie. Squeaky clean romance to the tune of The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

“Where did that come from?” I asked

“What?” she replied.

Moments later a new song hummed to the surface. I asked her to recall the spaghetti western tune but she couldn’t. Apparently she is either a mystic-music-channel or a human radio station.

Life with a world-class musician is never dull. Since I was born without the music gene, I generally find her either magical or mystical. The other day we emerged from the woods to find a thongophone. Yes. A thongophone. Without a moments hesitation, she approached this mountain-that-I-cannot-climb, picked up the thongs, and began to play the pvc pipes with ease. Her tune was whimsical and bright. I sat in the sun and enjoyed the concert she played for fun.

When she was done, she bowed. I applauded and asked, “Where did that tune come from?”

“What?” she replied. “I dunno. I made it up.”

Kerri Sherwood. Coming through.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about the THONGOPHONE

galena/released from the heart © 1995 kerri sherwood

Do The Important Thing [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

These are the short days of the year. The moment I’m finished with work, we head out the door for a walk before the sun disappears. Sometimes, like this week, when the weather is gorgeous, we walk the neighborhood during my lunch break. We are walk-opportunitsts.

It’s easy on the weekends to fill up the days with the-things-that-need-to-get-done. The gutters need cleaning. The leaves need raking. Winter is coming. Generally, we build the list around a walk but occasionally there is an inversion. The walk goes on the list.

I know we have our priorities straight. Even on the days of inversion, even if the list is lengthy and incomplete, we recognize that the most important thing is not the door that needs fixing or the deck that needs repair. The most important thing is to hold hands and take a walk. Together.

It’s how we appreciate our moment of life. The list can always wait for another day.

read Kerri’s blog post on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

Drop The Veneer [on KS Friday]

It was common during coaching calls, for clients, especially at the beginning, to self-diagnose. Essentially saying, “This is what is wrong with me.” It was an odd start to a process that is about fulfillment of intention or creation of desire. A coaching relationship isn’t therapy and a good coach – one that knows what they are doing – is careful not to let the relationship become about fixing-what-is-wrong. Moving through a creative block or clarifying a fuzzy vision in not an indication of a character flaw. The post-it note on my desk read, “Nothing is broken. Nothing needs to be fixed.”

The self-diagnosis was a veneer. A protective layer, like armor. People have innumerable strategies for hiding their fire, for blunting their passions. Succeeding or creating often implies exposure. Being seen. Stepping into the light can be scary business.

Rather than deal with the diagnosis, a useful and often surprising question to ask is, “What’s beneath that?” What’s beneath the protective layer?

It was also common, after taking the time to take off the armor, after dropping the I’m-broken-veneer, to hear a voice whisper, “You know what I really want? I want to be a writer.” Or a painter. Or a dancer. Stepping into the light is scary business and hearing your voice say what you really want, even in a whisper – especially in a whisper – is powerful stuff!

I loved those moments. Their world spins. The eddy of “fixing” slips into the current and there’s no turning back. Their path forward may be gnarly and steep but that tiny whisper clarifies the picture, releases the desire.

Careful not to be too effusive, I’d say, “Good. Now, what’s the next step?”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost on VENEER

holding on/letting go on the album right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

Give Over [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

In the world of price comparison, label reading, expiration dates, coupons, and ingredients review, I am a loser. In these matters I have a Teflon brain. Nothing sticks.

When I shop, I take something from the shelf and toss it into the cart. When Kerri shops, she reads. She scrutinizes. She weighs the relative value of each item against the recent past and possible future items. She questions and considers every detail. Percentages spill from her mind. She remembers the price of pasta – and everything else – from 1992 to the current day. She can tell me the history to the minute when the volume of a box or can dropped from 16 to 12 ounces, “Yet the price stayed the same,” she grimaces.

During our very first shopping expedition, I knew I was in a whole new league. No more toss and run. No more quick trips to the grocery store. I was pushing the cart for the Einstein of food shoppers, the Yoda of coupons.

We’ve evolved. Or, I have evolved. While she reads, I gaze. While she compares, I ponder. While she weighs and considers, I daydream. For me, shopping has become a time to reflect. To abdicate all of life’s responsibilities. To give over to a better mind and push-the-cart merely.

read Kerri’s blogpost on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com