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

“But the relationship of morality and power is a very subtle one. Because ultimately power without morality is no longer power.” ~ James Baldwin

At first glance, this birds-eye-view of our luminaria looks to me like a tear in the fabric of time. It seems a peek into another time so that the other-time is also capable of peeking into our time.

Historian Timothy Snyder defines freedom, not as the removal of a limit, rather freedom is something we continually create together. Our creation of freedom is an expression of shared values. Follow the thought, examine the history and we learn (over and over again) that no one can be free unless everyone is free, and freedom doesn’t just happen.

Isn’t freedom-and-justice-for-all a statement – an expression – of a shared value? I protect your freedom because your freedom is also mine. If your freedom is revoked, mine is revoked also. From a birds-eye view, from the rip in the fabric of time, it’s easy to see that we lost our freedom when the Supremes suspended due process. We tossed away our freedom when they somehow ruled that one man was above the law.

Have you noticed that ICE is less and less concerned about the citizenship of the people they snatch off the streets?

Authoritarians objectify segments of the population (woke, scum, snowflake, illegals…). They objectify in order to define them as “Other”, as less-than-human. It’s easier and more palatable to take freedom from an object than it is to strip it from a living, breathing human being, an equal. The problem is, the history is, that objectification-of-others spreads like an aggressive cancer. It takes over the body. It kills the body. It snuffs the freedom of all.

The misguided notion of freedom-and-justice-for-some becomes a prison for all. No one sleeps easily.

Our democracy is young. It tugs on the rope between freedom-for-all and freedom-for-the-select. Yet, we (currently objectifying each other as maga AND woke) tell ourselves over and over again the story of freedom-for-all winning against the brutal authoritarians, the believers in freedom-for-the-select-few.

In our movies, the bad guys are always believers in freedom-for-the-select. The Emperor wants a slave class and unlimited power. Luke and Obi Wan are believers in freedom-for-all. Even though they are outgunned, they have virtue on their side – and the virtue they embody, the driver of their rebellion, is a belief in freedom-and-justice-for-all. We cheer when they win in the end. Frodo and company, against all odds, must return the corrupting ring of power to Mount Doom, ending once-and-for-all the authoritarian control of Sauron. Even though the task seems impossible, they have good on their side and they win. And what is their definition of good? To live peacefully according to their will. We cheer when the good King returns to power; he is good because he serves the people and not the other way around. David slays Goliath. Kilmar Abrego Garcia stands against a vindictive authoritarian administration. The Epstein survivors fight for decades, against all odds, to bring down the monstrous Epstein class of rich and powerful believers of freedom-for-the-select.

The story of freedom-for-all triumphant over freedom-for-the-select is our nation’s founding story. Rebels in the colonies, believers in rule-by-the-people-and-for-the-people, believers in the rule of law over the king’s rule, broke free of an authoritarian. Since then it has been our task to create and recreate freedom, to extend and protect the rights and freedoms we value, edging ever closer to freedom-for-all in our diverse nation.

Sometimes, people are blinded by power and are enticed to the dark side. They choose the wrong team. Darth Vader, in the end of the story, is confronted by the loss of his moral compass. Watching the grotesque Emperor torture of his son, he sees, maybe for the first time, the truth of the cancer he serves. He is confronted by his ultimate loss of freedom, the sacrifice of his son, Luke. Seeing the truth, Darth Vader intervenes, he saves his son. Sacrificing his own life, he throws the Emperor, the authoritarian, into the abyss. He redeems himself. He re-enters the good, the unifying force.

These stories are our metaphors. They are expressions of our values. They are the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.

From a birds-eye view, from the stories we continue to tell to each other, we are undeniably believers in freedom-for-all. A hundred years from now, through the rip in the fabric of time called history, we’ll know whether or not WE THE PEOPLE defeated the evil within our nation or fell into a corrupt regime, a cancerous state goosestepping to the whims of an immoral emperor who ruled over a universe of slaves.

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

read Kerri’s blogpost about LUMINARIA

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When It’s All Said And Done [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I discarded another post this morning. Aghast at the latest lies and childish memes I wrote yet another political rant. It was harsh. It was too much. It led us into a lengthy conversation about how we might live and write in this toxic environment and yet not let the toxins poison us. How do we remain healthy while not denying the reality – the horrors – of our democracy’s collapse at the hands of those who swore to protect it?

In truth, I have not been happy with my recent posts. So many years ago I began writing for a specific audience – and myself – to make the distinction between unhealthy control and generative power. The shorthand is this: Control over/Power with.

Control is wielded over others while power is created with others. Control is self-absorbed. Power is other-focused. Control is the product of duality: us/them, black/white, winner/loser…It is oppositional. It can only lead to discord.

Power is created in a dynamic triad. It is relational. It is complementary and reciprocal. It always gives rise to harmony.

I realized in our conversation this morning that I had myself slipped into a duality. My writing has become oppositional. As our nation grows more violent and ugly by the day, my impulse has been to push back, to sound an alarm. I want to scream, “I am not that! WE are not that!”

Ronald Reagan famously said that “Government is the problem.” He was wrong. Government is neither a problem nor is it a solution (a duality). Government is a service (a triad). It is made of elected representatives in service to their constituents relative to serving the greater needs of the whole. It is dynamic. When functional and fair, it is complementary. Symbiotic.

Government becomes dysfunctional when it tries to run like a business and pretends it is subject to a bottom line (profit or loss). It is death for any service organization that forgets its reason-for-being and attempts to be something that it is not: government is not a business. It’s a no-brainer: privatization of government services places the emphasis on the bottom line – not on serving the people. For instance, privatize prisons and the bottom line of profitability will require the creation of more and more prisoners. Businesses need to grow. The same levers are true when applied to healthcare (as we are seeing) or education.

I believe most of the people of this nation are well intended. I believe the endgame of this administration is control so it must necessarily define everything as Us-and-Them. Demagogues need to demonize vulnerable communities and blame them for the ills of the nation. Demagogues need enemies-from-within since pitting us against each other is the route to ultimate control over…Demagogues need a Them.

People who are not steeped in blaming others for their pain are more likely to take responsibility for their destiny – which means they seek opportunity – which means that they are more apt the reach out to help and for help. Opportunity is a triad. Blame is a duality.

You might rightly ask me, “How on earth could a prompt featuring Sesame Street characters lead to a post so toxic that you had to toss it?” The answer is simple: in a control strategy like the one raging across our nation, in a forced duality designed to appear as angels and devils, good guys and bad guys, the bad guys will always get the focus. That’s the point of a control game: to see bad guys everywhere. To become reactive, suspicious, and angry. To reduce an otherwise complex, diverse thriving nation into a simplistic monotone. We are angels. They are devils. Happy and sad, grouchy and glad.

As someone once said to me, “It’s like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

I drank the poison. I’m so glad that our conversation this morning opened my eyes and left me asking, “How do I not bury my head in the sand but deal with the reality and still remain healthy?”

Triads, baby. Focus on the dynamic relationships and set about creating some real power with others. When it’s all said and done isn’t that the point of a democracy?

read Kerri’s blogpost about SESAME STREET

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The Right Season [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

The color of petals at the end of the season. An earthier shade of yellow made more vibrant relative to the purple-black. A kind of beauty that’s possible only in the right season.

I’ve been noodling on a composition-idea for years. Drawings of the theme pock my sketchbooks. I’ve started and erased canvases dozens of times. I don’t know why I’ve been so fixated on it for so long, though now it seems like it was prophetic. The time was not right until now. Polynices and Eteocles. The sons of Oedipus. As the story goes, after Oedipus abdicates his throne, his sons go to war for control of the kingdom. In their lust for power, they kill each other. Both lose. All lose.

How did we get here? Democrats and Republicans. Brothers, forgetting that they are servants of the people, go to war for power over the republic. Both lose. All lose.

It’s the right time to paint this painting. A kind of beauty, if you can call it that, possible only in the right season.

read Kerri’s blogpost about AUTUMN YELLOW

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What’s In A Name? [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

When at long last the humidity and heat broke, when the evening air was cool, we took a slow walk along the lake. It was a reprieve from the heavy air that seemed to me a metaphor for the state of the nation. Oppressive. Incessant.

Walking is for us an act of re-balancing. When it is “all too much” we walk to re-enter the present moment. For me in particular, walking gets-me-out-of-my-head or at the very least slows the pace of thought to something graspable. These past many weeks we’ve rarely walked. The heat and humidity was too much.

As Kerri took photos of the pastel sky, I breathed in the cool evening air, breezes from off the lake, and I thought of The Crucible.

Arthur Miller’s play, The Crucible, was written during the hysteria of the McCarthy era. At the end of the play, John Proctor has a choice, to sign his name to a lie, or to be executed. Wrestling with the untenable choice, he ultimately cannot bring himself to sign away his name:

“Because it is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang! How may I live without my name? I have given you my soul; leave me my name!'”

He could not live with himself if he signed his name to a lie that was being used to justify the murder of his neighbors and friends.

It is a play as relevant today as in 1953 when it was written. Joseph McCarthy eventually lost all credibility – he lost his name – when much of what he claimed was proved to be false.

Call it witchcraft. Call it communist hysteria. Call it woke socialism…Every single horror enacted in the past several months is built upon a lie. There is no national emergency at our borders. The crime in Washington D.C is at a 30 year low. The voter fraud in the United States is statistically zero. Mail in ballots are among the securest ways to vote. There was no emergency necessitating the president to take away congress’ power of the tariff. The 2020 election was not stolen. Democrats are not rabid socialists attempting to ruin the nation. “Waste, abuse and fraud” was – and is – a straw man for gutting our government and our standing in the world.

It’s all a lie just as McCarthyism and the communist hysteria was a lie perpetuated to justify political repression and a power grab.

It is bracing that so many willingly sign their names to the lies that are now being used to justify the murder and abuse of our neighbors and friends – here and abroad. Looking at the pastel sky, grateful for the return of the cool, I wondered how long it will be before the heavy lie catches up with those so eager to sign away their names.

It always catches up. Lies collapse on themselves: they eventually turn and feed upon the very people who perpetuate them. Just ask Rudy Giuliani. Witness what he did with his name. The only question is how many people of integrity, how many John Proctors or Kilmar Abrego Garcias will be disappeared, how many decent people will be vilified, their good names smeared and erased, before the heat breaks, before the manufactured hysteria retreats, before cooler heads and competent minds reclaim the democratic ideals and the power of the nation?

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PASTEL SKY

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The Smallest of Things [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

We’ve taught Dogga not to bark at the dachshunds next door. He stands vigil on our bed where he can see out the window and over the fence. He waits, knowing their morning routine. When the moment arrives, when the dachshunds come outside, Dogga groans and moans – like a character in a melodrama – to suppress his bark. He leaps off the bed, turns to look at us, and vigorously complains. His indignation is among our favorite morning rituals. We giggle at his yawling discord. We tell him to, “Go get candy cane!”, his favorite toy, useful in chewing away his dissatisfaction. He races into the next room returning with his plastic candy cane in his mouth, looking somewhat like Groucho Marx gnawing on a red and white striped cigar.

In those moments I couldn’t be more in love with my life. It’s the smallest of things.

We were like small children overrun with anticipation as we awaited the blossoming of the peonies. Last fall Loida gifted Kerri with two new peony roots. Elsa Sass and Amalia Olson. We planted them with great care, following the instructions to the letter. In the spring, little green adventurers broke through the soil. Soon there were leaves and then the tiniest buds. And then, one day, the buds began to swell; nature’s Jiffy Pop. Like Dogga peering out the window, we’d race outside each morning to hold our vigil. This week, the buds burst open, radiant flowers unfolded. Kerri was beside herself. The photo session has been ongoing for days. “I just love them!” she exclaims with each and every snap.

It’s the smallest of things.

This weekend, people left the comfort and safety of their homes to walk together in the streets. They showed up for each other. They showed up en masse to remind their elected leaders that they serve the public and not their party; they are meant to serve the needs of the public and not the whims of a criminal. People walked together to remind the absent/silent Republican members of Congress that they swore an oath to uphold The Constitution – and they are betraying their oath. Millions of people stepped out of their houses to walk together, to express their dissatisfaction with the brutality, the attempted authoritarian take-down of our democracy, to join together their voices to say, “We will not abdicate our responsibility to each other as you have abdicated your responsibility to us.”

It’s the smallest of things. To step out of the house. To walk with others. To speak truth to power, especially when power is a bully threatening violence.

Recently I’ve asked myself – as I’ve heard many others ask, “But what can I do?” This weekend we experienced an answer: Do the smallest of things. Step out of your house. Take a walk with your neighbors that sends a clear message to the cowards in Congress and the supremely corrupted court: The democracy that our ancestors planted here is precious and worth protecting.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PEONY

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Opossum Is Asking [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

It was the second time we saw the baby opossum. The first time it was with its mother. The moment they saw us they beat a hasty retreat to their den . It was a cold day and no one had walked the trail since the polar freeze. We surprised them.

This time we rounded the bend and the baby was perfectly still, standing in the middle of the trail. It was as if it was waiting for us. We stopped and returned its stare. After a moment or two it slowly waddled into the safety of the tall grass.

Later, at home, I looked up the symbolism of an opossum crossing your path.

“…in essence, Opossum is beckoning you to use your brain, your sense of drama, a surprise to leap over some barrier to your progress.” (Medicine Cards) Survival. Resourcefulness. Opossums are adapters and thrive in challenging and changing environments.

It’s considered a very good omen and right now, in our rapidly changing and challenging environment, we could use a good omen. And, the message within the symbol matched our concerns of late: how do we become more resourceful in order to survive the havoc being wreaked on our nation? It’s an open question for us, an ongoing conversation.

Last night I had a rare text exchange with my younger brother. “The near future looks bleak but we need to focus on what we really care about and can influence,” he wrote. “I have a wife, daughters, dogs, and a community of friends. I’m still blessed in challenging times.” Our exchange reminded me of the aspect of the opossum that resonated most with me: adapt to thrive in a challenging and changing environment.

To thrive we need to focus on what we care about and can influence.

Bernie Sanders came through town this weekend and thousands of people attended his rally. I was heartened by the energy and the overwhelming turnout. What we need to do to influence the current course of this criminally-stupid-administration: show up, speak out and call out the hypocrisy. Or all of the above. En masse. Non-stop.

When we come together to protect what we care about we thrive. It seems opossum is asking us to use our brains, unleash our sense of drama, so we might surprise the authoritarian and leap over the barriers he/they erect to our progress. There is power in a collective focus. There is unstoppable energy in the collective action of the people. That power and energy is the beating heart of a democracy.

In Dreams She Rides Wild Horses (in process), 42″x42″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about the OPOSSUM

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Work A Circle [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Kerri has gifted me with the practice of looking close-in. Because she notices and photographs detail, I have the great pleasure of seeing things I never would have noticed by myself. I walk through the world seeing connective tissue and pattern, the view from 30,000 feet. I am grateful to regularly have my mind pulled from the clouds to witness the miracle of the minute. In her photographs I see connective tissue and pattern. It’s all one amazing fractal.

This is the very first post I wrote on my new blog named The Direction of Intention. I wrote it in 2010 following a meaningful conversation in a DEI facilitation about the nature of power:

1. Truly powerful people are dedicated to inspiring true power in others.

It goes like this: empowered people empower others.

Think about it.

How powerful must you be to free yourself of the need to diminish others? No more reducing others to elevate your self. No more reducing yourself to fulfill the mistaken belief that, “you are not worthy.”

What if your worth was no longer in question? What if your value was no longer an issue? What would you do with all of that newfound time and energy that previously was dedicated to bullying your self or reducing others?

In later posts I wrote about the distinction between Control and Power. They are not the same thing, in fact, they are opposites. Control is an action taken by the fearful and, ultimately, weak. It is the path of the bully. It necessarily sucks the potency of others. Control is the action of a vampire. Taking.

Power, on the other hand, is the generative creation of many. Empowerment. Giving to a common center. We learn about power after natural disasters: people coming together to help other people.

Control is the preferred action of authoritarians. Empowerment is the ideal behind democracy. Together, we-the-people are capable of creating a more perfect union.

I’d forgotten this tiny detail, the reason why I started writing. I felt as if I had something to say about power and how it is often confused with control. I did not consider myself a writer. It was scary new territory in 2010.

I’ve now put in my ten thousand hours and I find in these past few weeks that I am once again writing about power. I recognize that my words about power sometimes sound like raging, Captain Dan tied to the mast screaming at the storm. This storm is called the abuse of power, an assault on the power of a free people by a malignant leadership enamored with control fantasies. Vampires, all. There is good reason to rage.

My first 498 posts began with this phrase: Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine. And so, I work a circle. I return to where I started, to this one tiny detail, the original thought: empowered people empower others. There has never been a time more vital to remember – and serve – this simple imperative.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEAUTY

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Responsible Opposition [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Among the many things our city does well is the design and maintenance of the gardens in the parks. Colorful and well-tended, carefully planned beds of flowers. My favorite plots juxtapose vibrant, tender petals that surround sturdy broad red banana trees. The beauty found in opposition. Contrast.

Horatio said that he was worried for the democrats. “They have no responsible opposition,” he said. The operative word in his sentiment is “responsible.” As we all know, there is no lack of opposition yet the former GOP has lapsed into a low-bar, name-calling, opposition-for-opposition-sake; it stunts the growth for all involved. It’s the Achilles Heel of the red-hat-cult. When opposition is the end-goal there is no need for ideas or solutions, no service to a greater good, no vision for the future. There is no ethic. There is no lie-too-far to resurrect some made-up-past-glory-fantasy. Opposition-for-opposition sake has only one aim: to attain and keep power.

And then what?

Maintaining power-for-the-sake-of-power is a well-known path worn into history by the likes of Stalin and Hitler. Pol Pot. Mussolini. Putin. Kim Jung Un. The path ultimately – and always – leads to the killing fields. Absolute power is never a worthy or sustainable reason-for-governing and always, in the end, eats its own people. Opposition-for-the-sake-of-opposition, once in power, eliminates by any means all other points-of-view. It silences any voice of responsible opposition. Read Project 2025 for a step-by-step blueprint on how to reduce a two-party democratic republic into a single party authoritarian state.

A healthy two-party system – democracy – is designed to bring opposing ideas to the table for debate and discussion. The point is not opposition. The point is agreement. Compromise in service to the greater good. Checks and balances. The point, at its best, is like the gardens I so appreciate, vibrant juxtaposition, carefully planned and respectfully maintained.

Democracy is made beautiful through responsible opposition. It’s a two-party system. Democracy disappears without it.

Our garden needs tending, a task for which we are all responsible. Our garden already has a great plan. It’s called The Constitution. Opposition-for-the-sake-of-opposition is like an invasive weed. This red-hat-weed will not just go away. It’s our job – all of us – to act, to call it out, to vote, to make certain the weed is pulled for good (pulled for the public good) and that the two party system, with an ethical GOP, dedicated to the rigorous and worthy task of finding agreement through responsible opposition, is restored to the service of our greater garden.

Figure It Out on the album Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blog about RED BANANA TREES

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Arrive Again [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Deadheading the day lilies, the afternoon sun pouring through the branches, I realized that I’ve walked a circle and arrived again at the starting point. After fourteen years, I’ve returned to the origin-thought of this blog.

I started writing the direction-of-intention after a conversation I co-facilitated. It was a day exploring and discussing diversity, equity, and inclusion. The group’s conversation veered into questions about power. That day I realized that I had an overabundance of thoughts and questions that I needed to study. My very first post was almost a thesis statement; it was an attempt to capture the essence of what I shared with the group: power-over others is not power at all. It is control. Power, real power, is something that is created with others. Control over. Power with.

I did not return to the beginning without help. The current political reality has drawn me like a moth to a flame back to the topic of power. Our two parties live on opposite sides of the line. The red hats are a case study in Control-Over. The Democrats operate on the principle of Power-With.

Control-Over is distinct in the necessity to blame. It is a victim’s game. It is an abdication of responsibility. It demands lock-step adherence and fears counter-point-perspectives. It evades giant swatches of its history. It pretends to hold all the answers and doesn’t tolerate questions.

Power-With is distinct in the necessity to choose. It seeks responsibility and participation. It thrives on counter-point-perspectives and demands collaboration and compromise. It needs to consider and reconcile with its full history, the good and the bad. It asks many questions and eschews the notion of a single answer.

Control-Over is essentially hierarchical. Caste. Fixed. Rule by one.

Power-With is essentially egalitarian. Relational. Fluid. Rule by the many.

It turns out there’s never been a better time to return to the root of my original inspiration. It is, I’ve learned the original root of our nation’s nearly 250 year conversation. The essence of the democratic ideal.

Today we stand squarely at the crossroads:

One choice continues to follow the complex path of power-with.

The other is a hard right onto the powerless path of control-over, not a step back in time as it pretends.

It’s our choice. It is our direction-of-intention.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SUN THROUGH TREES

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Touch The Immensity [on Two Artists Tuesday]

I’ve always felt a kinship with birds of prey, especially hawks and owls. If I fully comprehend the concept of a “blessing” then I feel blessed when one of those great birds cross my path. A sign. A message. An acknowledgement.

A guide.

Last fall we were with a hawk when it died. From my office window I saw it struggling. It was laying in the middle of the street. I grabbed a thick towel so I might pick it up and move it off the road without harming it. Just as I was ready to placed the towel over the bird, like a rocket it shot into the sky landing in the tree above me. We watched it. After several minutes, it suddenly flapped its wings and then fell to the ground. With the towel, we bundled it and put it into a box. We called Fellow Mortals Wildlife Hospital and the DNR to ask what we should do. By the time we reached someone, it had passed.

It is possible to Google anything so I searched for the meaning of the experience according to the good-god-google: Something new is about to begin. Let go. Move on. Good advice and useful every single sunrise.

Searching for meaning. Making meaning. What could be more human?

I thought about the hawk when we came across an owl feather on the trail. At first we thought it was a hawk feather but the good-god-google instructed otherwise. They are easy to confuse since the feather markings are remarkably similar.

It was important to discern the difference since the meanings according to the good-god-google differ. If an owl feather, then wisdom is the theme. If a hawk feather, then the gift of power and courage to overcome obstacles.

Or, it’s simply a beautiful feather that brings to us the great gift of appreciation, no good-god necessary.

Mostly, the pursuit of meaning from our bird encounters plucks the bass string of human yearning: connectivity to something larger. Something much larger than the good-god-google, a numbers god by definition, sporting 100 zeros. Something much larger than prayers or mantras. The resonating recognition that comes when gazing into the infinity of a midnight sky. The briefest touch of immensity when standing before the rolling endless waves at a beach. The vibrantly alive blue ball of earth as seen from the moon.

Pay attention. This bird carries a message meant for me.

Being – beyond the limitation of words, like the feeling of kinship with a passing hawk. The awe of a midnight hoot from an owl. The driving necessity of making meaning of something as precious and passing as life.

read Kerri’s blogpost about OWL FEATHER

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