Posted on December 25, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
We had a debate about the painting on my easel that was so passionate, so intense, that Dogga thought we were having an argument and fled to the his safe-spot in the bathroom. We were startled out of our vehemence, laughed at ourselves and loved on him, reassuring him that all was right in the world.
We celebrate the return of the light. Depending upon the tradition, the celebration-of-light’s-return takes many forms and expresses through beautiful and unique rituals and symbols. The lighting of candles. The exchange of gifts. The sharing of a meal. If you think about it, each of these rituals, across all of the various traditions, are meant to bring us together. Light’s return is a symbol of hope, an annual call to the possibility of unity. Many paths, one mountain.
It is the time of year that we are for a moment capable of acknowledging the impact of our vehemence and actions upon others. It is the time of year that we at least pretend to desire peace on earth; it is the time that we sing songs of goodwill toward others. We ask it of our gods but know deep down that it is a wish that only we can grant if we so choose.
We first must choose it.
Our choices on this day? We will walk a snowy trail and revel in the quiet. We will come home, laugh at ourselves, share a meal and love on our Dogga, his unconditional love reassures us each-and-every-day that all is right in the world. Grateful, we will light our happy-lights, and crawl under a blanket.
Posted on November 3, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
“May you dwell in your heart. May you be free from suffering. May you be healed. May you be at peace.” ~ Buddhist Prayer
I’ve always appreciated this Buddhist prayer because it is inclusive and expansive. The prayer is repeated several times, each time with a change of the pronoun. For instance, it begins with “I”; “May I dwell in my heart…” From the center of “I”, the prayer moves outward as a prayer for the closest “other”; “May Kerri dwell in her heart…” And, then, again, moving outward, “May Dwight dwell in his heart…” and on and on, expanding and including until the outermost ring of the circle is reached, “May all people dwell in their heart…”
And then, the prayer continues, only now it pulls the heart of humanity back toward – and finally arriving at, “May I dwell in my heart. May I be free from suffering. May I be healed. May I be at peace.”
The message of the prayer cycle is explicit: outward peace on earth is the expression of inner peace within each individual.
Horatio echoed Kerri’s belief when he said that all religions can be boiled down to this phrase: be kind. Outward kindness to others is the expression of inner kindness to the self.
I’ve been pondering the root of deep division ripping apart our nation. It seems so simple. As Horatio reminded me, there are two philosophies at loggerheads. “Every man for himself” versus “I am my brother’s/sister’s keeper.” If you live in an “every man for himself” mindset then there is no need for inclusion or expansion. Exploitation is the goal and hoarding is the and the best you can do. We are witness to this philosophy: gold leaf and ballrooms while many in the nation starve. There is no need for heart or peace.
We are also witness to the other philosophy, those who care for the well-being of their neighbors: people marching in protest of the daily abuse power, people racing into the streets to protect their neighbors from ICE, people giving to food banks…
Which world would we rather live in? Democracy is fundamentally the Buddhist prayer. Of The People. Fascism is the opposite: a dictatorial leader using the military, suppressing opposition. No peace. No prayer.
Absolute power or governance by the people? Heart prayer or no heart? Personal gain through the intentional infliction of suffering or striving for peace and prosperity for all? Which will we choose?
In either case, as the old saying goes, “As within, so without.” Or, said another way, “What goes around, comes around.”
Posted on October 28, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
Ah, bread. There are few sensual pleasures more fulfilling than the smell of freshly baked bread on an autumn morning. There are few taste combinations more delightful than warm bread and hot coffee. There are few visual pleasures more beautiful than racks of freshly baked bread.
There are few symbols more immediately meaningful than bread. Abundance. Breaking bread together is a gesture of friendship, a sign of peace. This world could use some more breaking-of-bread, some more willingness to meet in the middle and participate in that most human of activities: sharing a simple meal.
In the little village we wandered into the Copenhagen Bakery to grab a sandwich and found more than we anticipated. It was a thriving meeting place of the community, packed during all hours of the day, alive with conversation. Rather than grab our sandwich we decided to stay and soak it up – an unusual choice for two people who’ve grown to avoid crowded places. We had to work hard to find a place to sit. The BLT that we ordered was enormous. The remainder of the plate was piled with homemade chips and a chocolate chip cookie. It was an expression of generosity. During our brief stay in the village we went back to the bakery again and again; we needed the nurturing that this place of bread and intentional kindness offered. We needed the experience of a community gathering around warm bread to talk, laugh and share stories.
Intentional kindness. Generosity. Qualities that are magnetic. They create. They uplift. They pull people toward a common center.
In this era of intentional meanness and rampant greed, we are witness to these qualities that can only divide and destroy. They repel and discourage. Dis-courage: literally dis-hearten. Cut out the heart.
Sitting in the Copenhagen Bakery I whispered a wish that somehow, someway, these political parties and our communities, that are so unnecessarily divided, might find their way to this heart-filled bakery, that they might put down their whipped-up-discord long enough to sit for a spell in a space that exudes generosity of spirit and break bread together.
Posted on October 13, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
This one is from Roger. If you live in a world of limited pie than you’ll no doubt hoard or try to take someone else’s piece (it is also appropriate to insert the homophone, “peace”). If you live in a world of unlimited pie, a world of plenty of pie for everyone, then you’ll share your pie. You’ll share your peace/piece.
The only thing that’s different in those two pie-world-views is the belief in pie, and, as we know, belief is rarely a good reflection of reality but is an excellent creator of limitations.
There is no limit to the good vibes we can spread. Share your pie.
“We are exploring together. We are cultivating a garden together, backs to the sun. The question is a hoe in our hands and we are digging beneath the hard and crusty surface to the rich humus of our lives.” ~ Parker J. Palmer, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation
I can’t believe I am writing this. The truth is that I enjoy weeding. While Kerri tends to the herbs on the potting bench, I pull weeds from the cracks between the patio stones. I am sometimes shocked at the satisfaction I feel when the deep root emerges with the stem. “Nice!” I exclaim to myself, dropping it into my plastic bucket.
It has not always been true that I enjoy weeding. Initially, it used to feel like a fool’s errand, an unwinnable war. Each new day would reveal new weeds – more weeds – overtaking my gains from the day before. Redoubling my weed-pulling-efforts seemed to produce the opposite of my intention: more and more weeds.
In retrospect I realize that I came to home ownership later in life and my weed wars were waged when I was relatively new to the job. I wanted to impress my new wife with my manly yard maintenance prowess. I’d mowed thousands of lawns in my life and all of them belonged to other people. This yard, our yard, did not yet feel like mine. I was in denial that I actually had a yard to tend.
I also had an Aussie dog whose sole mission in his young life was to carve multiple velodromes through the grass in his gleeful running of circles. And, as it turns out, Aussie pups, when overheated by running circles, dig deep holes in the earth to reach cool soil that they can lay on it. The backyard destruction was total and provided every gleeful weed known to humanity a perfect opportunity to sprout with unbridled enthusiasm. So they did.
I do not know when the crossover happened. I do not know when I surrendered the fight. I don’t imagine it happened all at once. There was no grand epiphany, no lightning bolt of illumination. Over time the war turned into a game and then the game turned into a meditation. One day, I walked into the backyard to quiet my mind and began to weed – and realized what I was doing. “Good for the heart. Good for the soul.” Brother Patrick’s words of so long ago came to mind. Never in my life did I think I would have a yard. Never in a thousand years did I imagine I’d love to quiet my mind by weeding. My wandering soul giggled at the revelation.
It’s been that way ever since.
“I don’t like weeding as much as you do,” she said, pruning the mint and tending the peppers. The potting bench is her happy place.
“I know,” I said, pulling a clump of crabgrass. It came out, roots and all “Nice,” I said aloud. Our old Aussie left his cool soil perch and came to investigate.
This photo is of Apollo’s chariot arcing across the sky. It’s only visible because the clouds buffer the chariot’s brilliance.
Zeus is scheduled to come through later tonight. There is promise of thunderbolts. Dogga is not a fan of the flash-and-boom. Frankly, neither am I. Zeus is too showy for my tastes.
Persephone is back from her stay in the underworld and Demeter couldn’t be more pleased. The blossoming peonies are proof. The wild grasses and ferns are a-poppin’. The tomato plant promises to be as tall as I am!
Ares children have been let loose on the land. Phobos and Deimos – Fear and Terror; they wear masks and ambush immigrants. They bully because it makes them feel superior. They pull people from their homes and cars. They take children from schools. They tackle senators. They answer to a minor deity, Dolos. He is renowned for his orange color, his penchant for lying, his empty promises otherwise known as deception.
I, for one, am waiting for Hestia to fully show up on the scene. Welcoming, unifying, an ancient powerful goddess who exudes peace and quiet. She is the hearth, the warm center of “home”. She is formidable because she deals in simple honesty. You might recognize her: she is the force that pulled people into the streets, uniting them to rebuke Dolos and his nasty servants. It seems she might team up with Athena who brings a healthy dose of wisdom and strategy to the mix, capable of easily corralling Fear and Terror and sending the orange Dolos back to the swamps where he belongs.
No doubt the goddesses will provide the antidote for the toxic masculinity that ails us.
[Juneteenth! It is especially important to commemorate the emancipation of enslaved people in the USA – particularly in the face of an administration that whitewashes our nation’s history]
Posted on February 21, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
Coming over the pass, the first glimpse of the lake seemed a mirage. It beckoned.
I always travel with my sketchbook though I rarely take it out and draw. I am more of an “intuitive” artist – feeling my way forward – so the impulse to draw scenes from nature rarely occurs for me. Rather than capture images I more often write ideas or capture snippets of conversation. I capture interesting shapes. I draw images that come to mind. Like the lake, the images first appear as mirages, calling me closer.
Rooting around in my bag, my sketchbook fell open to the very first page. I was surprised by the notes I found there. I’d forgotten a conversation Kerri and I had months ago about the difference between being-at-peace and keeping-the-peace. This is a bit of my note: All my life I have tried to keep the peace – which means to keep silent – to NOT say – to not stir the pot – to be more concerned with how others feel than how I feel. Being at peace is different. It means being solidly in my center and giving voice to what’s vital for me; not swirling in circumstance like a ‘Peacekeeper’ does. And then I captured a quote from Kerri: “To be peaceful is not about keeping other people’s peace, it is keeping my own.”
Driving toward the lake I thought about what I’d written.
Peace-full means to take responsibility for how I walk and speak in the world, regardless of circumstance.
Peace is amorphous when looked at from afar; it is a mirage when it is an aspiration. In the heat of the moment, when lived, peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake.
A mantra I learned long ago rolled through my mind: Peace is not the absence of violence. It is what we do in the face of violence. It is Gandhi and MLK. It is a mass of people joining together and walking in peace toward violence, refusing to be silent, refusing to hide, refusing to become violent.
We are now living in a violent time. White supremacy is once again rearing its ugly head. The fascists have the reins. With a rapist in the white house, a cabinet unique in their lack of experience and rejection of the constitution, an oligarch dedicated to self-interest and to destroying democracy…misogyny, racism and hate are having a moment. This is no time to keep the peace. This is a time to be the peace: to join. To give voice and call out the lies. To root firmly in our shared belief in equality and tradition of the rule of law.
As JB Pritzker just wrote, “Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage.” It takes courage to be peace in the face of hate.
The Republicans having lost their spines, minds and their moral compass and the Democrats having lost their rudder and will-to-act, we find ourselves called to show the courage and commitment that believers in peace not-so-long-ago showed on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.
Peace is a solid center, immovable like a mountain, as clear as the crystal waters of the lake. Our democracy demands that we link arms, be peace, and take responsibility for how we walk in the world and for our democracy before it swirls down the drain.
Posted on February 17, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
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.
Posted on January 22, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative
“Keep something beautiful in your heart to survive difficult times and enjoy good times.” ~ John O’Donohue, Anam Cara
Several times over the past few days I’ve read or heard variations on this theme: I will not let him (them) take from me my peace.
Although we recognize the necessity of pushing back against the maga-hatred worming the heart of the nation, we also know it is more potent and powerful to walk toward a better vision. Maga is a black hole and will suck the light out of all that enter its gravitational pull.
Kerri and I are taking John O’Donohue’s advice. We are intentionally and consciously incubating something beautiful in our hearts and minds.
Right now resistance and focusing-on-the-positive seem one and the same.* Perhaps they are. Saul-the-tai-chi-master used to say, “Look beyond the opponent into the field of possibility.” Even though we are reeling by the vote for salivating corruption, even though we are disoriented by the collapse of the government’s moral center, we know that obsessing on the muck and mire will only serve to begrime our spirits and bog down our lives.
To recover balance I daily remind myself of a simple truth: overcoming the obstacle is not the goal. The circumstance-of-the-moment is not the center.
The goal is presence – a woo woo word for a very basic intention: deal with what is actually in front of you rather than wrestle with the fear of an abstraction. To be in “what is” rather than struggle to get through “what should be”. Therein lives the capacity to see all the beauty of the moment. Therein lives the capacity to see and share goodness, to magnify kindness. Choosing to live in the moment is choosing a path of heart. The only requirement is to choose where we place our focus.
It is a necessity in these dark times, more than a survival strategy it is to learn how to thrive.
I delight each time I see the message float by in my stream, “I will not surrender my peace…” Each one a mantra from someone who feels as I do; an ally in sanity. A reinforcement to stand solidly in the clear center and not get pulled into the ugly circumstance. Each one a reinforcement of another truism: peace will not abide a closed fist; it cannot be held; the best way to grow peace is to share it. To give it. To spread it far and wide. Peace always finds an open heart, it flourishes in an open hand.
*(Peace, like love, need not be soft and amorphous. Peace, like love, can be ferocious. As we are told in our mythology, it can move mountains. It is not the absence of conflict, it is what we do in the face of conflict. Peace is the light brought by everyday people in dark, dark times. Peace is the light we shine on corruption, indecency and malice.)