patience | The Direction of Intention

Metal Monster Box [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 29, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

In every great story there are trials to be faced, especially at the thresholds. A Sphynx with a riddle. An ogre with an attitude. St. Peter with a book. Boulders that smash. Forests that come alive. Guardians of the great beyond. I thought about the trials as we crawled for hours through traffic toward the George Washington Bridge. New York did not grant us easy passage home.

The riddle must be solved. The ogre defeated. A reckoning must be made. The trials on the journey provide valuable lessons and useful tools necessary to fulfill the hero or heroine’s destiny. She plucks a single hair from the breast of the Crescent Moon Bear. It is the secret ingredient necessary to cure her husband. He enters the Grail Castle for the second time, this time with no need to pretend. They are both transformed.

The two people who drove into the city, straight into winds and sheets of rain from a tropical storm, were not the same two people who left the city. They met this trial but the story is far from over. The destiny is not yet met.

Surrounded by giant metal monsters, trapped on all sides as we followed the asphalt trail, there was no escape. There was only one way and that was through it. Ours was a lesson in patience. Ours was a lesson in presence. We-are-here-so-enjoy-this-moment. The metal monster box reinforced tools that we already possessed but too often ignore.

Enjoy this day. Appreciate this moment. Faster forward movement cannot be forced. There’s nothing gained in the metal monster box of frustration. I know patience will come in handy in the next section of our journey.

The Balinese have a phrase I’ve long appreciated: Jom Karet: it will happen when it happens.

read Kerri’s blogpost about MONSTER TRUCKS! (TRUCK MONSTERS!)

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Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Metaphor, Transcendence | Tagged: appreciation, artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lessons, patience, presence, story, studio melange, the melange, threshold, threshold guardian, trials | 1 Comment »

The Reward Of Slow Walking [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 26, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Living so close to the lake our soil is sandy so ornamental grasses thrive in our yard. Each year, rounding the corner into fall, the grasses produce gorgeous plumes. The plumes catch the light. Amber and gold, purple and crimson. The plumes catch the wind, waving and dancing. The plumes capture my attention. I am each day mesmerized by the color and sway of the grasses.

Beyond their enthrall, I have another, perhaps more important appreciation for the ornamental grasses. They have become teachers of patience. They are reminders of right process.

Several years ago we transplanted grasses from our front yard to the back. The sandy soil and constant sun made it difficult for flowers and other plants to grow along our eastern fence line so we decided to give the grasses a try. We didn’t have the resources to buy new varieties so we split the grasses in our front yard.

The result was not good. I thought I’d stunted the grasses in the front. The first year after splitting, their usual exuberance was gone. To personify them, they seemed disheartened. The newly planted grasses in the backyard were gasping. The second year was not much better. I thought, rather than watch their slow demise, it would be better to pull them and start anew. I was mortified. I didn’t know what I was doing and it seemed I’d made everything worse.

Kerri told me to wait, to give them one more season.

In the third year, both front and back, the grasses exploded into life. Ebullient. Buoyant. Each day I’d stand in the middle of the yard and mutter, “I can’t believe it.”

Kerri watched my daily mystification and asked, “Aren’t you glad that you didn’t pull them?

Now, many years later, they are huge, thriving. Little volunteers have sprouted and prosper around the pond. In fact, I now work to keep the ornamental-grass-colonies from taking over the yard.

The grasses have fostered an environment of abundance: they have become safe haven for rabbits, DeeNCee Lullabaloo (the frog-in-residence) spends more time in the grass kingdom than in the pond. The chippies have established a protected highway running through and behind the grass-cover.

And I sit and marvel at their luminance and wind-choreography. Each year I await the coming of the plumes. They fill me with life. They remind me to allow for natural growth rather than push for a result. I hope that I’ve learned their humble lesson. No matter; they fill me with awe, the reward of slow walking, the gift of patience.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GRASSES

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Filed under: DR Thursday, Gratitude, Navel Gazing, Seeing | Tagged: abundance, appreciation, artistry, attention, awareness, awe, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, exuberance, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lessons, ornamental grasses, patience, slow walking, story, studio melange, the melange, thrive | 1 Comment »

Let It Sit [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 25, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

Over thirty five years ago, people I loved, people who loved me, bought me an easel. It was a gift for my very first solo show. All these years later, it is the only easel I’ve ever had, the only easel I use. The only easel I will use. If the canvas is too big, if I can’t put it on my easel, I tack it to the wall.

My easel is well traveled. It moved up and down the west coast. It moved into and out of studio spaces. It rode in the truck to the midwest. It has hosted hundreds of canvases. It has become the Velveteen Rabbit of easels. It is no longer shiny and new. It is covered with layers of acrylic drips and splashes, the support stabilizer is bowed, I must be vigilant to keep it square. It is, I recently realized, my mirror image, my double-walker: I, too, am covered with drips and splashes, my stabilizer is bowing, and I am constantly vigilant about keeping myself grounded and square.

A few days ago, during a studio clean, I decided it was time to do a bit of easel excavation and repair. The build up of acrylic paint on the bottom canvas holder is…prodigious. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to experience. As I peeled back the layers of acrylic, I unearthed the layers of my creative life. The layers of my life. I could literally associate the colors of the acrylic strata with specific paintings, with specific eras, with foibles and triumphs, despair and new hope. There were many many layers. It was like reading a diary, a life review in spatter.

Tom McKenzie taught me that in order to invite in new energy it is sometimes necessary to close the shop. Lock the door and let it sit. Make space. Time and patience will loosen the grip of old ideas, stale patterns – and open pathways to fresh possibilities. I’ve followed his sage advice twice before. Once I stopped painting for a full year. I not only closed the building but I burned the paintings. In both cases, locking the door was followed by a renaissance, a surge of new and surprising work.

I saw the story of my twice-artistic rebirth as I slowly peeled the history from my easel.

And, as I stripped back the layers of my life, the full understanding of what I was doing settled in. I am cleaning my easel in preparation for my third closing of the building. I am cleaning it so it will be ready for that day-in-the-future when I unlock the door. Spacious and rejuvenated. I have been fighting it. I have been angry about it because I feared it – I always fear that the muse will leave and never come back even though I know in my bones that the muse is the wise-voice asking me to breathe, to make space. Now, as is always the case after a few years of fighting a losing battle, I am accepting it. It’s time to lock the door. Empty the glass. Let it sit.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SPACE

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, Flawed Wednesday, Metaphor | Tagged: acceptance, artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, death, energy, grief, hope, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, metaphor, new hope, patience, rebirth, rejuvenation, renaissance, resistance, space, spaciousness, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

The Way Home [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on June 4, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

This peony-perspective begs to be the inciting image of a children’s book. I imagine the main character comes from a world where people are smaller than flowers. Where bumblebees are happy Ubers delivering their small human riders to distant neighborhoods when they need a lift. Where nature is magical, playful and esteemed.

Not all ideas make it to the final draft so it’s important to stack up the ideas and have fun with the images. The main character sleeps inside the peony. The Uber bees are chaotic fliers and one never knows where they land; in this world, destination is always a surprise. Spontaneity is the norm.

In this world where people look up to flowers, “Home” is everywhere for everyone – so people, unacquainted with ownership or territory, have evolved as intrinsically helpful. Generosity of spirit is a highly prized character trait. Survival is not of the fittest but of the kindest.

Hummingbirds know the secret of finding sweet treats, caterpillars know the secret of patience.

Since this storybook is evolving as a sweet utopia, it begs the question, “What’s the conflict?” Stories do not work without obstacles. The bigger the better. What is the lesson our main character must learn? What gets lost that must be found? Maybe our little person, like Adam and Eve, falls out of their garden? Perhaps an Uber bee unwittingly flies our hero/heroine through a magic portal, to a place where people are bigger than flowers? In a world that seems sad and upside-down, the question becomes, how does our little person, lost in the land of big, find their way home?

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEONY PERSPECTIVE

Bonus! Perhaps this amazing composition will be the theme for the animated version of the story book once it garners a world-wide audience!

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Filed under: Creativity, Story, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: artistry, children's books, conflict, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, generosity, generosity of spirit, ideas, images, imagination, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lessons, moral of the story, patience, peony, question, spontaneity, story, studio melange, the melange | 1 Comment »

Ponder It [on DR Thursday]

Posted on July 27, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

As you know, Breck-the-aspen-tree almost didn’t make it. Three years in a pot and one ill-conceived planting in the backyard left our poor Breck withered. A new spot in the yard restored Breck’s health but her growth was minimal. We removed dead branches. We assumed we’d stunted Breck’s growth so she would always be beloved and diminutive.

And then…It seems Breck is growing an inch every day. We began the summer looking down at her. Now, we crane our necks to see the new leaves sprouting at the top of her gangly reach. We joke that Breck is doing her Jack-In-The-Beanstalk imitation, though, at this rate of growth, it’s no joke. I confess to having a sit-down chat with her, cautioning her to not grow up too fast.

Last night I was awake most of the night. I thought about Breck and new growth. I thought about the cicadas, a surprising new form emerging from a discarded old body. I hoped against all hope that nature was talking to me, sending me a message. Be patient. All in good time. I’ve been sitting in the hallway for a very long time.

Perhaps, like Breck, I too am waiting for the optimal time, some intrinsic trigger and, suddenly and without warning or inhibition, I will reach to the sky. Perhaps, like the cicadas, in a moment of surprise, my new form will burst out of the old body, amazed at the sudden addition of wings.

In the meantime, I continue to do as I was taught: my job is to “put it out there”. The rest is out of my control [meantime: the intervening time. The hallway]. The operative word is “it”. It. I write and publish almost everyday. I paint and publish. We cartoon and publish. I toss resumes into the wind.

In the dark of night, thinking of aspen trees and cicadas, I ponder worthy questions. Breck needed assistance to move to new soil and then required recovery time. Storing energy for the right moment. The cicada lived underground until it felt an internal imperative to climb – an imperative that I imagine made no sense but had to be heeded just the right moment. For me, if nature is talking to me, it has me pondering what else – that I’ve not yet considered – might “it” be that I should “put out there”? Or better, does “it” matter at all? Perhaps all that I lack is the right moment. And there’s nothing to be done about that.

My Site. Up and Running. At Long Last.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

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Filed under: Art, Creativity, DR Thursday, Edges, Emergence, Metaphor | Tagged: analogy, artist, artistry, cicada, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, Emergence, growth, hope, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, metaphor, nature, nature symbols, new growth, painter, patience, story, studio melange, symbol, the melange, transition | 3 Comments »

Eat And Wait [on KS Friday]

Posted on May 5, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Neither the hummingbird nor the flower wonders how beautiful it is.” ~ unknown

Jay, Gay, and Kerri are waiting. They are watching for the return of the hummingbirds. The anticipation is palpable. Each day I come upon Kerri, staring out the kitchen window at the untouched feeder. She turns, and, mimicking a voice-over from a commercial for the television show, Wicked Tuna, she asks “WhehAuhThey?” I shrug. She returns to her watch.

A line from a book flashed into my mind. “I can think. I can wait. I can fast.” Siddhartha replies to the beautiful Kamala when she asks what he can do. Hold on! Waiting is a marketable skill! Of course!

Inside my mind, I practice my answer in an imaginary job interview: “Now, tell me, Mr. Robinson, what are your most valuable skills?”

“I can think. I can wait.” I say to the too-serious-HR manager. Note how I cleverly omitted the part about fasting. As a rule I’m hungry all of the time. I want to create the illusion of value without having to outright lie. If I don’t eat, I can’t think. Period. And, if I can’t think, waiting-to-eat is virtually impossible. Just ask Kerri about that day in Minturn, Colorado. It was almost ugly. I have a long way to go before I add fasting to my short list of valuable skills.

In my mind I don’t get a second interview. “We want someone who can fast,” the too-serious-HR manager smiles thinly.

“I’m certain I can work on my delayed gratification skills,” I say as I’m escorted to the door. Wow. Another lie. I’ve been working on delayed gratification for a lifetime and have made very little progress. “I didn’t want that job anyway!” I declare as I stumble onto the noisy street-in-my-mind.

All of this fantasy lying to myself has made me hungry. “Do you want to eat something?” I ask Kerri who’s keeping her hummingbird vigil. “I’m starving.”

“Yes,” she says. “When do you think they’ll get here?” she asks, suddenly becoming a 5 year old. “How will they find us?”

“They’ll be here soon,” I say, perhaps telling another fib. I have no idea when they will be here. “All we can do is wait,” I offer, quickly adding, “So, what do you want to eat while we wait?”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HUMMINGBIRDS

If you like this post, let us know or share it. Or, buymeacoffe.com. Thank you, all-ways.

Filed under: Random | Tagged: artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, fasting, fib, Hermann Hesse, hummingbirds, hunger, imagination, joy! a christmas album, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, patience, Siddhartha, skills, story, studio melange, the melange, value, waiting, waiting by kerri sherwood, Wicked Tuna | 1 Comment »

Listen To Dan [on saturday morning smack-dab]

Posted on August 27, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

Between the dog-of-destruction reigning supreme in the backyard and the water-line-trench-destruction in the front yard, we’re the award winners in our neighborhood for worst yard. Luckily, we have Dan. He knows everything about grass. E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. For years he’s given us great lawn advice that we forget almost immediately after we ask. Patience is a virtue and his name is Dan.

With the complete annihilation of the front yard, first resulting in a weed-covered-burial-mound and then the subsequent scraping away of the mound and all living things with it, we thought it best to finally put Dan’s advice into action. He drives by periodically to check on our progress and give us some hints and encouragement.

Things are looking up! Tender grass is growing in most spots in the front. We’re awaiting the fall day that Dan gives us the go-ahead to “over-seed.” With any luck, he tells us, our once bald lawn will have a full head of hair by this time next year.

The award will have to go someone else.

read Kerri’s blogpost about GRASS

Filed under: smack-dab, Uncategorized | Tagged: aarp, advice, aerating, artistry, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, good friends, grass, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, lawn, lawn repair, patience, second chances, seeding, story, studio melange, the melange, two artists, weeding | 1 Comment »

Take The First Step [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on July 5, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“That is what marks out the warrior: the knowledge that willpower and courage are not the same thing. Courage can attract fear and adulation, but willpower requires patience and commitment.” ~ Paulo Coelho, Aleph

And so begins my tale of two quotes.

It’s true, I have not been very courageous in this lifetime. I’ve run from most of my demons until circumstance or readiness required me to turn and face them. Left to my own devices I’d be running still.

“I learned long ago that in order to heal my wounds I must have the courage to face up to them.” ~ Paulo Coehlo, Aleph

Luckily, life ran me into a dead-end. It was not courage but conditions that stopped the run and necessitated the turn. Demons are never as big as fear makes them out to be. In fact, turn and face them, and they will often shrink to nothingness. Their job is to make you run.

The real work happens after the demons shrink. Standing in your dead-end, the race from your life now complete, an obvious and disconcerting question arises: now what? Actually, there’s a deeper question implied: in the absence of running away, what will you choose to walk toward?

The deeper question is one of willpower. The deeper question cannot be answered by anyone else and can only be found in the space once occupied by the demon. Facing the demon was merely a prerequisite. Standing still in your dead-end, reaction transforms to intention.

Breathless and vulnerable, it is willpower (perhaps a kind of courage?) that is needed to take that first timid step toward…

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CANOPY

Filed under: Edges, Identity, Metaphor, Perspective, Two Artists Tuesday | Tagged: Aleph, artistry, courage, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, demons, intention, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, meaning making, patience, Paulo Coehlo, questions, running away, story, studio melange, the melange, willpower, wounds | Leave a comment »

Ode The Basement Floor [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on April 27, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

Ode to the basement floor.

Though little acknowledged and less appreciated, you carry without comment the brunt of the load. When water runs where it ought not run, you, master of the Tao, let it flow, knowing the drains in your design will surely win the day. Or not. No matter. What happens will happen and we will make stories with either result, never once mentioning your stalwart participation, unseen support in every storm.

The washer jumps, the dryer rolls, the boxes stack, the shelves stand guard, you accommodate and hold space for all.

Sometimes I stand on you, toes a-wriggling, lost in thought, or wrinkle-brow-perplexed, all the while missing the wise message of patience you proffer. “Stand long enough,” you suggest but do not say, “and everything will look different. Or the same.” Were I to ask – and you to answer – you might imply that my paint and carpet solutions are surface remedies merely. Perhaps I should consider lasting and deeper alternatives?

We rearrange. We are cleaning out. We see more of you than before! Yet increasingly exposed and in full reveal you do not attempt to hide your age as we might. As we do. Your pocks and chips and scratches galore the proud chronicle of your era.

“Tread on me” your flag must wave, as we step and stride and dance and tramp and plod and stomp, fulfilling your purpose with our every footfall. I wonder, as I carry a load to the stairs, do you mind or even note that I am lost in the cause of singing your praises?

[this post comes to you without the assistance of mind altering drugs of any kind. Just sayin’]

Filed under: Flawed Wednesday, Random, Uncategorized | Tagged: age spots, Antigone would wince at this one, artistry, beat poets, blog knots, cabin fever, cement mirrors, cleaning out, Comic relief or just relief?, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, foot notes, Homer shudders, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, note to self, ode, patience, personification gone wild, poems about nothing and everything, pondering, praises, rainy day ramblings, remedies, Say what?, shoe string solutions, solutions, spring fever, story, studio melange, the melange, the result of fumes, Toe jam, why knot, why not | Leave a comment »

Walk In Sync [on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on April 5, 2021 by davidrobinsoncreative

My Seattle studio was on the 4th floor. It was a corner space so I had windows on two sides. On one side, across the railroad tracks, were the stadiums. Out of the other set of windows I could see the streets that bordered the International district. People scurrying to and fro.

Many afternoons, working on a painting, I’d hear the roar of the crowds, touchdowns or home runs. The light rail pulling into the station. The Amtrak train pulling out of the station heading north. Sirens, car horns honking. I loved my studio because, although I was surrounded by the hustle and bustle of city life, I felt somehow removed from it, a witness.

Sometimes, when I was too much in my head or I could no longer ‘see’ my painting, I’d walk the streets. I’d wander to clear my mind or refresh my vision. I’d walk slowly, people rushing, rushing by. People trying to get somewhere. Trying-to-get-out-of-a-too-active-mind requires a much different pace than trying-to-get-somewhere. They are opposite actions. In my slow walk I’d feel the wind of impatience as people dodged around me. I was an irritant. I was a slow moving rock in a rushing river of humanity.

The wind of impatience.

I’ve always understood the artist’s role to be a witness, to live on the edges looking in. Master Marsh recently sent Wendell Castle’s “My 10 Adopted Rules of Thumb.” Rule # 2 is “It’s difficult to see the whole picture when you are inside the frame.” An artist’s job is to sit on the frame, to see and share what those inside the frame cannot see. Pattern. Movement. Illusion.

One of the first things I noted the day I met Kerri is that we had exactly the same stride. We were walking and our steps were weirdly identical. We strolled in sync. It made us laugh.

There is a special place in Aspen, Colorado. The John Denver Sanctuary. We make a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary when we travel to visit Kirsten. It is a place designed to make people slow down. Babbling brooks. Aspen leaves. Monolithic stones carved with the lyrics of John Denver’s songs, stones that carry the words of writers and artists and thinkers who appeal to the heart. It asks the visitor to sit for a spell. To listen. To breathe and see. To be, as nature teaches, no where other than here. It offers the gift of the artist: to fill-up with quiet before jumping back into the life-of-hurry-up-and-get-it-done. To remember what is natural and walk with exactly the same stride as nature.

read Kerri’s blog post about PATIENCE