Then And Now [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Then and now.

The moment we knew we were going to Aspen, we looked at each other and said, “John Denver Sanctuary”. It is a special place. A place of peace and quiet in an angry noisy world.

We first visited The Sanctuary In 2016, the year after we were married. John Denver has always been an inspiration to Kerri. Simple. Straight forward. Positive. A bard who dreamed of a better world. In music. We found the monument stone that carried his lyrics to Annie’s Song, – a special wedding song for us -crawled onto the stone and Kirsten took our picture. That was then.

Nearly a decade later, a wedding brought us back to Aspen and to The Sanctuary. In the middle of May we walked the paths and stepped over the streams all by ourselves. No one else was there. We found Annie’s Song, set the timer on the camera, and scurried to the stone to get into the frame. Now.

We lingered there, talking of all that had happened in the decade between the two photos. So many stories! So much life! Who we were then. Who we are now. Who we are becoming.

And, as is always the case, remembering that the sanctuary isn’t just a place, it is also a way of being. We always have the option of bringing the sanctuary with us – being it. That’s what we hope for our becoming. In our artistry. It’s what we’ve always hoped for – then and now.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SANCTUARY

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Clean White Slate [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

The snow fell and the world grew quiet. It seemed that the universe was affording us a much needed pause, an opportunity to be still and reflect. The snow appeared to be our ally, a guardian made of ice crystals wearing a blanket of muted white.

And so, we rested. We agreed that no decisions needed to be made, no projects required completion, no questions needed to be answered, no horizons needed to be explored or ideas pursued. No experience needed defending. No choices required justification. We welcomed our exhaustion and sank into it like a soothing warm bath. Prior to rejuvenation, we recognized the utter imperative of emptying space, the necessity of draining the glass completely so it might someday be fully refilled.

Later I marveled how rare it is in my experience to rest. To truly rest. To just rest. To give myself permission to be. To hold no thoughts, to hold no grudges, to hold no importance, to hold no intention. To open hands and heart and let go. It is not in either of our natures to do nothing.

On a sunny day we would not have been capable of absolute rest. Had it been a sunny warm spring day, our empty tank, our need for rejuvenation, would likely have taken a different route. We would have walked. We would have recounted and debriefed. We would have puzzled. We would have made pictures. We would have turned our faces toward the warm sun piercing the cool breeze.

Instead, the snow-ally brought us a surprise gift. A rare and welcome opportunity. A noiseless mind. A quiet heart. A clean white slate made of a deep appreciation for the essential things.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW

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Pull The Thorns [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Matthew and Rumi agree: “You hypocrite! First take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

 The Buddha is purported to have said: “The faults of others are easier to see than one’s own.”

The message is ubiquitous. The teaching is universal. If you wish to wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart. And, like all simple truths, it’s easier said than done.

History is riddled with the greatest persecutors loudly proclaiming themselves victims. It’s a pattern. Sometimes the odor of hypocrisy is faint. Sometimes it stinks to high heaven. Currently, we are watching this age old drama play out on our political stage. No-self-awareness. Not-an-iota-of-personal-responsibility.

It’s worthy of Aeschylus. It’s a theme that runs through the greatest works of Shakespeare. Othello. Hamlet. MacBeth. Lear. Tortured thorny hearts with split intentions. It’s ever-present because it’s a bear-topic that every human has wrangled. Psychologists call it “projection.”

There is no path to inner peace that does not begin with dedicated self-reflection, self-revelation, and a subsequent healthy course of eye-beam-removal. A good honest look at the thorns carried within the heart before the plucking. What’s true of an individual is also true of a community.

And, if we are lucky and brave and honest, “…at length, truth will out.” A good test of truth is the flood of peace that ensues. A wander through the fields of flowers.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PULLING THORNS

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Take The Curve [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I understand that there are no straight lines in nature. In life, either. Curves, bumps, potholes…surprises… are the spice of an interesting life. A full palette experience. Note: I did not write “an easy life.” Easy is a one-color painting.

That there are no straight lines in life or in nature (same thing) makes this warning sign something of a curiosity. If there are only curves of varying degrees, why warn me that there is a curve coming. I’m presently standing in a curve. There will be a curve after the upcoming curve. And another after that.

I’d be much more interested if the sign warned me of smooth sailing ahead. Or calm waters. Or momentary peace.

I suppose I’m less interested in the geometry of my travels and more concerned with the quality of my journey. I understand that the sign is attempting to help me manage my expectations, moderate my speed, prepare for what’s ahead; it’s a type of crystal ball. It knows what the future holds if I continue on this path.

I already know that there is a curve ahead. I have no expectation of straight paths. Or narrow paths, for that matter. I do, however, expect to be surprised. Although there is no sign in yellow and black warning me of the beauty, I understand that there’s an amazing vista ahead, somewhere just beyond the curve.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CURVES

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buymeacoffee is a sign on the road that we are not tossing our words and work into a e-void. it’s hope in a modern era.

Stay Out Of It [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Guitar Jim told me that he didn’t trust a world where inspirational phrases and hope-filled reminders were posted everywhere. He had several reasons. The signage works as an excuse not to do what’s written on the sign, as if posting, PEACE or BE KIND or some wisdom from Rumi was enough. Do as I say, not as I do. One does not need to live the message; one only needs to post the message on the wall.

Or, he suggested, the sign works as a kind of pedantic-passive-aggressive message. Pedantic (noun): someone who annoys others by correcting small errors, emphasizing their own expertise. “I’m the epitome of kind so you should be, too.”

He went on, asking, “Why must we constantly remind ourselves to be kind? Why must we constantly trumpet and tell ourselves to, “Seize the day!'” What’s wrong with hugging the day, or perhaps simply living the day as it comes?

I laughed heartily at his rant. I’m guilty of being a self-generating sign maker. On the wall beside my desk is an old-school bulletin board that is filled with post-it-note messages to myself, many are phrases I’ve captured from wise friends: “Offer calm to those who are agitated.” Or, “I feel better when I’m not complaining.” Behind my desk is my favorite message-to-myself. I bought it when I waded into the land of software start-ups. It reads, “What the f**k?” It served (and serves) to remind me not to take anything too seriously. Many-a-day it comes in handy.

Although they are not related, I’d swear that Kerri and 20 are siblings. They spar like brother and sister. Her favorite term of endearment for him is Turd. “Don’t be a turd!” she declares, laughing. “Oh, my god!”

“I can’t help it!” he responds. “What does she want from me?” he turns and asks.

I sip my wine, saying, “Don’t look at me! I’m staying out of it.” That, too, is one of my sage self-generated-post-it-notes-on-the-wall: Stay out of it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DON’T BE A TURD

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buymeacoffee is a sign from the ether-sphere posted on nothing tangible so it both does and does not exist.

Incite Some Deviance [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I searched for it but couldn’t find it. A short clip of Carl Sagan placing life on our tiny planet into the perspective of the enormity of the universe. A little sun in a galaxy of suns in a universe of billions and billions of galaxies. Through this lens, it is mind-boggling, the hubris necessary to believe we are the center of it all.

Initially this morning, I wrote a post about grace but cut it. I asked a question about the collision of values: loyalty-to-a-group smacking down telling-the-truth. It’s a uniquely human dilemma. The insistence upon tribe, Us-and-Them, spins some very dark necessities. I tossed it because grace was overshadowed by gloomy.

This is what I intended to write: on this tiny blue ball there is a group of Us defined as “All Humans”. Loyalty to this group is understood as idealistic. How can we possibly reach across so many imagined boundaries? What would we do with a definition of Us that was all inclusive? We would invite grace. Float all boats.

Each year, everywhere I wander, I am steeped in songs-of-the-season that appeal to the best of our nature. Peace on earth. Goodwill. Love one another. Perhaps we should listen to the lyrics of these songs. They are written by us for us as an appeal to our idealism, a sentiment central during this season of light’s return. Peace. Peace. Peace. We should “take it to heart.”

Let’s face it, loving one another is deviant if it is all inclusive.

It’s a reach, I know, but it’s really not so hard to imagine Us in the context of this vast universe, on this tiny ball spinning and spinning around our minuscule sun, one of billions and billions and billions. In such a context, the boundaries-in-our-minds dissolve and invite a different set of questions to arise: How can we better share this blue dot together? Conflict makes money yet collaboration creates possibility.

Pouring a little light into so much dedicated tribalism is deviant. It requires a touch of dignity. Pouring light into darkness is called Grace. Grace, in the face of so much division, is deviant.

When I cut my initial post I wondered what it would take to breach the code of tribe, reach beyond the singing platitudes, and incite some deviant behavior like peace-on-earth and all-inclusive love-of-one-another.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEVIANT BEHAVIOR

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Answer The Call [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

As is always true, the color calls me and I stop. You’d think I’d get used to the pop of red vine against the winter grass. You’d think that I’d expect it and, therefore, no longer see it. But that hasn’t happened yet. Or maybe I’m refusing to let it happen. The color calls. I answer.

Sometimes I feel as if it is a requirement to move slow enough in the world to actually absorb it. Move too fast and the extraordinary bounces off. Moving too fast makes us Teflon. Non-stick living. I want to soak it up. I want to feel it, the whole spectrum.

It’s a consumer mind that thinks, “I’ve seen it,” and races fast “to get there,” forever on the freeway gobbling miles and eschewing the backroads. Gobbling achievement while missing the experience. Checking life off the list. I am not the same as I was yesterday. When the red vine calls I might be open to a wholly new conversation. The red vine certainly is not the same as yesterday. I can see it because I “took the time” to see.

Like the red vine, the phrase “take time” called so I answered. I Googled it and, no surprise, most of the synonyms were negative. Culture betrays itself. Dawdle. Dally. Waste time. Fritter away. Goof off. Lolly gag. And, the cherry on the top of the Puritan heap: lose time.

It’s a regular deathbed revelation for people to wish they had not raced through their lives to hang yet another plaque on their wall of respect. If there is a strategy for losing-the-time-of-your-life it is to race-through-to get-to-the-end. Goal achieved. There’s another way. Walk slow enough to hear when the red vine calls. Then, take the time to stop and answer.

read Kerri’s blogpost about RED VINE

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Mind The Deer [David’s blog on KS Friday]

We don’t always see them but we know they are present. The deer. We note their tracks and have learned where they usually cross the path. They follow careful pathways, game trails that are visible when we are walking slow enough to spot them.

As a symbol, they are heart-centered. They are associated with gentleness and it’s easy to understand why. They are gentle creatures. Even when bounding away, their leap is graceful and quiet, as if they are careful not to disturb the grasses and ground. They are mindful of their impact on the world.

We feel fortunate when we see them. It sometimes feels as if they show themselves to us. They seem to know when our hearts are hurting so reveal themselves, even for a moment, to help fill us with peace. It’s always true that we stop all movement, all thinking, all worry, all despair…when they show themselves. They are like magical makers of space, instantly turning tumult into vast acres of serenity. They look at us with large black eyes to make sure our spirits are calm, our hearts refreshed, and then they disappear as quickly as they appeared. “What were we talking about?”

“I can’t remember.”

The calm stays with us as we become like the deer, filled with their intentional spirit, quiet and innocent. Present, that special place beyond our future worries and past regrets.

watershed/as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DEER

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Consider The Landscape [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“We are a landscape of all we have seen.” Isamu Noguchi

In my landscape of life, there is a mountaintop at sunrise. There is a nurse shark hiding in the coral. There is a boat with orca whales breaking on all sides. There is leap of faith after leap of faith after leap of faith. There are betrayals and loyalty. Lightning strikes and earthquakes. There are stages and audiences. Two times living under martial law. Revelations and reckonings. Leaves rustling. A white dog and a black dog with amber eyes. Fresh baked bread and hot coffee. Visits to the past. Fingers stinging with cold so near to frost bite. Shame and embarrassment. Triumph and encouragement. Near starvation and too-much-food. Friends suddenly appearing from nowhere and friends suddenly disappearing into the same nowhere. There is unbridled hope. There is a wasteland of despair. There is cursing the heavens and genuine thanksgiving. So many empty attempts at being clever. So much reinforcement of the fullness of my ordinary. There are so many yesterdays that blur and wash together, a raging river.

There is one today. A single now.

Certainly there is landscape enough to fill a thousand canvases with childlike play. There is enough to fill a million million pages with wonder. Cicadas and sunsets. The smell of fresh basil. To sculpt with words ideas that may or may not help others see the fullness of their unique landscape and how infinitely conjoined it is with mine.

pax, 24x24IN, mixed media on panel

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BOWL

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Bring On The Comfort [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Last Tuesday evening we sat on the deck until late. We were in short sleeved shirts. Kerri wore summer shorts. It was an anomaly for late October in Wisconsin. The warm breezes set the chime symphony in motion. It was an evening of low talk and high peace. The Dogga slept on the deck. Hope-the-frog meditated by the pond.

Since then the temperatures have headed south. We are wearing layers, warm socks, and replacing the cotton sheets on the bed for flannel. The quilt has made an appearance. Slippers and Uggs stand at the ready.

And, just like that, it’s soup weather. The return of comfort food. In our cupboard, patiently waiting for this day, is a humungous can of peeled tomatoes. We’ll launch the good boat Comfort with a vat of Joan’s tomato soup. It’s simple and delicious. We’ll bake bread for dipping or to tear and toss like croutons into the soup. It never fails: once the soup is ladled into the bowls, all coherent conversation stops. This soup is that good.

No worries, 20 will help us eat it. With a vat this big, there will be plenty of leftovers (for days).

Comfort: 1) physical ease and freedom from pain or constraint. 2) easing or alleviation of a person’s feelings of grief or distress.

This is some seriously powerful soup. Bring on the comfort!

read Kerri’s blogpost about SOUP!

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