Holding On. Letting Go. [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The story of the BabyCat chair is the story of the tides of human emotional life. Holding on. Letting go. Holding on. Letting go.

After a titanic struggle with all that it represents to us, we let it go. We took it to the curb where it sat for a few days with no takers. We discussed chopping it up but couldn’t bring ourselves to do it so decided to wait. We decided to not-know what to do with it. We placed it in a spot beside the garage, like a memorial bench on a trail, it seemed an inviting place to sit and ponder the driveway.

And then the birds found the chair. We hadn’t considered the chair’s proximity to the bird feeder when we placed it by the garage so we were delighted when we looked out the window and discovered a score of birds enjoying the BabyCat chair. They were chattering, hopping armrest to armrest as if testing the comfort of their new chair.

“I guess the B-Cat chair has found a new life,” she said. “Perfect spot.” Keep in mind, we have a piano in our backyard so a chair in the driveway is not completely out of character.

The birds scattered when the workmen came up the driveway following the cable lines to the pole behind the garage. They had to move the chair to gain access to the pole. They were clearly puzzled by the chair since it was so obviously placed – rather than dumped – in that spot. They looked around before carefully moving the furniture-in-the-driveway.

With the snows, we’ve discovered that critters other than the birds have enjoyed a respite along their way. We’ve seen squirrels occupy the chair and found evidence of raccoons napping or at least pausing in their daily maraud.

Holding on. Letting go. Holding on.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHAIR

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Stop To Witness [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Sephora is an arrowhead philodendron. She lives in our sunroom and is named for a line of beauty products. Her name is threaded to a heart story. It’s enough to know that we adore Sephora and the memories she evokes.

The other night 20 was indulging in a perfectly good rant when he suddenly stopped mid-sentence and pointed to the sunroom. A ray of setting sunlight shimmered one of Sephora’s yellowing leaves. We leapt to our feet to see what caught 20’s eye. For a brief moment the yellowing leaf was radiant. Otherworldly.

Such a small thing rendered us monosyllabic. “Wow,” Kerri said, reaching for her camera.

Stretching my vocabulary to the breaking point, I added. “Yeah. Wow.”

“Cool,” said 20 as the sun moved a millimeter and the leaf quickly lost its shimmer.

Kerri frowned, looking at her snaps. “I didn’t get it,” she sighed. She hates missing a good photograph.

We returned to the table. 20 picked up his rant where he left off.

Later that evening, looking at her photo, I remembered the brief moment of the shimmering leaf. I’d already forgotten. It was as if we caught a glimpse of an angel passing through. It was so remarkable that it made us jump up from our chairs and yet the extraordinary moment was swept downstream, completely washed out of mind.

I am convinced that these extraordinary moments happen all the time. I am certain that we are surrounded by them – we are participants in them – yet rarely do we have the eyes to see them or attention span to retain them. We are moving too fast.

I saw a meme the other day that struck a truth-chord in me. It rushed by in my social media stream. It went something like this: I asked the great universe to reveal my purpose. The universe replied, “You fulfill your purpose when you tie a child’s shoe. You fulfill it when you shovel snow for your elderly neighbor. You fulfill it when you sit quietly with a grieving friend. You cannot see your purpose because you confuse purpose with achievement.”

I laughed recognizing my folly.

I would add this to the meme: You fulfill your purpose when you jump up to witness a moment of passing beauty. You fulfill your purpose when you stop the rant long enough to witness an angel passing through, threading your extraordinary story through the yellowing leaf of an arrowhead philodendron named Sephora.

read Kerri’s blog post about SEPHORA

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A Refresher [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Jim E guided us – actors and directors – through an exercise he called The Spirit of Play. He was a master teacher. Afterward I made copious notes so I, too, might lead others to their spirit of play.

Through my time in the theatre I guided many groups through the sequence. Later, in the corporate world, finally understanding the essence beyond the progression of steps, I led lawyers, business folk, teachers, coaches, consultants…through variations of Jim’s original workshop, all meant to bring people back to themselves, back to their spirit of play. It was my north star, “People just want to play,” I assured my doubtful collaborators.

Play is an umbrella big enough to safely contain the serious stuff. The serious stuff by itself is too small a container to allow for play. The inspiration-well will always run dry if play is banished from consideration. Unfettered imagination, freedom of exploration and expression, so natural as a child, is shackled when the spirit of play is burdened by a purpose called win or lose.

I recently reminded myself that cloud gazing feels good and requires no other purpose for doing it.

Clearly needing a refresher for my own spirit of play, I went into the studio, pulled out eight canvases, mixed a bucket of paint, grabbed several big tools, scrapers and rags, and to the tunes of Jerry’s jazz band, I spattered, pulled, rolled, scraped, smeared. No thought was allowed, not goal was considered. Nothing serious was entertained. I dropped my very-important-role of “artist” and laughed and laughed.

KDot & DDot See An Owl, 24″x48″, acrylic

read Kerri’s blogpost about CLOUDS

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Our Human Purpose [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

It really boils down to a mistake in purpose.

The purpose of business is profit.

The purpose of government is public service.

When government serves a profit motive – the motive of business – it loses sight of its unique purpose: service to the public. It fundamentally loses its reason for being.

We on the woke-side-of-the-spectrum believe the maga-movement to be misguided because they rallied behind a business motive to solve the problems of government – thereby making the problems worse. A government that prioritizes profit motives over public service is destined to fail.

What the MAGA-mob doesn’t see is that we are all pissed off for the same reason: public service has been co-opted by self-interest. The top 1% now own and control more wealth than the bottom 90%. The solution is not to throw gasoline on the fire. The solution is not to tear down democracy. The solution is to reclaim the purpose of government.

On the trail, people are beautiful because they support each other. They share a common purpose. They inhabit a common story. They know that success on the trail is a team sport. It is an infinite game rather than a win/lose contest. It favors generosity rather than meanness.

We will know when we’ve recovered the purpose of our government when we – all of us on this national trail – favor generosity rather than revel in unkindness. Service to others – supporting and being supported – is what makes us beautiful specifically because it fulfills our human purpose.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BEING HUMAN

smack-dab © 2025 kerrianddavid.com

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The Medicine We Seek [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

In the story of The Crescent Moon Bear, a young wife endures several trials on a journey to find medicine that might cure her ailing husband. In the end, the trials are the medicine. The trials teach her the path of healing. As we near the day of national disgrace, the inauguration of a despot, the Crescent Moon Bear story has been walking with me. Perhaps the trials we are about to face will be the medicine. Perhaps they will teach us or show us the path to heal what ails this nation.

This is what the story has already taught me: the young wife would not have kept walking, she would not have endured the hardship of her journey, had she not carried in her heart a greater purpose. A reason to endure. The healing of her beloved.

No one endures hardship without a heart-full of service to something greater than comfort, something more potent than personal gain. The red-hat-mob and oligarchs will learn this soon enough. Gluttony is vapid purpose, a flavorless reason for being.

Kerri just read to me a post by John Pavlovitz. The necessity of acknowledging – and being honest – about the dark despair we feel in this moment of national shame. I was struck by the common theme expressed in the many, many comments: people feeling alone, isolated in their disbelief and grief.

It occurred to me that those of us, discouraged by the election of hatred, fearful of what’s coming, will soon need to find one another in order to embark on a journey to discover a cure for the corrosive poison now coursing through the nation’s body. We need not walk this path alone. Our shared grief is a sure sign of our unity, our capacity to meet the coming trials with a greater – shared – sense of purpose.

Our hearts hurt. They should hurt. The despair we feel is natural, necessary, a compass to guide us as we embark together on this odyssey. We will, in our journey, if we come together and walk united, learn that we are the medicine we seek.

read Kerri’s blogpost about JUST KEEP WALKING

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A Happy Spirit [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.” ~ Helen Keller

We bought the chandelier a few years ago. It was meant to hang over Barney, our disintegrating backyard piano, but it wasn’t the right fit. For a single summer it lived just outside our backdoor. It’s a solar chandelier so it jumped to life for a few hours after the sunset. It never held a charge for very long.

It migrated into our sunroom, suspended just beneath the plant table. It tickled us that we had a low chandelier that nearly touched the floor. It didn’t get a ton of sunlight from its place beneath the table so it sprang to life for only a few minutes each night after we turned out the lights.

As part of the recent whirling-dervish-clean-fest, the chandelier has been elevated to a new position. Now, instead of dangling beneath the plant table, it proudly hangs above it in a prime position receiving plenty of light. Now, when the lights go out and the chandelier springs into life, it casts glorious shadows across the ceiling.

As part of my evening ritual of closing up the house, I move room-to-room pulling the plug on our many happy lights, saving the sunroom for the last. I like watching the chandelier illuminate, fulfill its purpose and cast its shadow. It both amuses me and I find it oddly comforting.

Last night, knowing that it had only a few minutes of charge since the day had been dark and cloudy, I stood and watched the shadow change as the little chandelier waxed and then slowly waned. A lifespan of a few moments, a complete arc, as the vibrant jeweled octopus stretched across the ceiling and then almost immediately faded into nothingness. The quick visit of a happy spirit. It sent me to bed with a smile and the promise of another visit in the morrow.

a work in progress

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CHANDELIER SHADOW

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The Great Gift Of Purpose [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“In oneself lies the whole world and if you know how to look and learn, the door is there and the key is in your hand. Nobody on earth can give you either the key or the door to open, except yourself.” ~ Krishnamurti

In the United States of America, today is the day we give thanks. Imagine it! 364 days dedicated to dog-eat-dog grousing with one day set aside for thanks-giving. Envision for a moment a flip of our dedication: a single day devoted to complaining-and-selfish-taking with the entire rest of the year committed to gratefulness and appreciation.

Is it possible for gratitude and cherishing-others to be the norm?

Tom Mck’s grandfather told the story of two Civil War veterans who owned adjacent ranches. One vet fought for the north and the other fought for the south. They shot at each other every day creating a dangerous situation for the whole community since their ranches were on the road to town. Finally, no longer willing to dodge bullets just to go to the market, the community brought the two men together and negotiated an accord with them: the vets agreed to shoot at each other only one day a year, the same day each year. Their fellow citizens knew not to go to market on the auspicious day.

I thought about those two men this morning. Their entire reason-for-being was to hate each other. They gave to each other the great gift of purpose. An unspoken detail of the story, perhaps the most important aspect of the whole story, is this: none of the bullets they fired over many years ever hit the mark; they were either terrible shots or they didn’t really want to eliminate their reason-for-being. They intentionally missed. They loved to hate their neighbor.

It’s a complex game we play, is it not? The tale of the two Civil War vets is a story for our times.

Is the great-gift-of-purpose as easily given to loving, uplifting and supporting our neighbors? Is our capacity for generosity and consideration really so limited? Is there only enough for a single 24 hour period?

Is aggression and hate really more magnetic and satisfying than kindness and love?

Our nation chooses this day as Thanksgiving. Kerri’s and my wish for this troubled land on this day of laying down our weapons: a genuine flip of our dedication.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THANKSGIVING

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Something To Hold Onto [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Like this wisp, I thought, when she said, “We are all looking for something to hold onto.” We were walking the trail, still trying to process the results of the election. Reeling. The wisp was an apt image. We are at the mercy of the wind. She added, “Maybe that is what we need to offer in what we write. Something to hold onto.”

Something to hold onto. Yes. But not just anything. I suspect the people who latched onto maga were looking for something to hold onto. Their anger made them grasp the grifter. They coalesced around a petty swindler who preys on their frailty, spins their blind rage into misplaced hatred. Even though he makes them promises, they will find that there is no salvation on this path. There is no magic potion. He will empty their pockets – ours, too – and vanish from sight, blaming everything under the sun except for himself for the wreckage he leaves behind.

Something to hold onto. I’ve been heartened by those in our circle, like us, unplugging from media, detaching from family and friends who voted for the felon and fascism. Detaching from what can no longer be trusted. Stepping away from what has become toxic, unsafe. There’s clarity in this sweeping discernment. An unambiguous line. A re-dedication to honoring and protecting simple verifiable truth and guarding decency as our common ground.

This week I’ve had multiple conversations about the difference between purpose and filling time. We’re comparing strategies for staying healthy amidst the national dis-ease. From “Reading every book I’ve ever wanted to read,” to “Completing every home improvement project I’ve been putting off,” it’s more than simply staying occupied to avoid the pull of the doom-scroll, the call of the train wreck; it’s strategies for staying mentally and spiritually healthy through the coming wasteland. In each conversation there is this: a renewed focus on relationships. Reaching out with hope and support to the others who refuse to relinquish the unambiguous line.

Something to hold onto. We’ve spent the past few weeks, like King Lear, raging at the sky, shaking our heads in utter disbelief. A necessary phase I will call grief. So, as our nation wrestles with its ugly shadow, we hold onto the slim hope that this is how, like a snake, we shed our ugly-too-small-skin. We hope that, after the coming storm, we survive and step back into the sun, survey the wreckage, and ask, “How can we rebuild so that this never-ever happens again?”

It is something to hold onto.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE WISP

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A Different Criteria [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.” ~ John Muir

I once read that the word “wild” was only necessary to a people who’ve deluded themselves into thinking that they are somehow separate from or above nature, that wild is something that desperately needs to be tamed.

In a culture where many are predisposed to believe that one’s personal nature is fundamentally corrupt (sin-full) and, therefore, requires serious controlling, all of nature is destined to suffer the same fate. Rivers are dammed. Forests eradicated. Waterways and air polluted. It is inevitable. All of nature is reduced to the word “resource”. It is the ultimate expression of taming. A resource to be used and then discarded.

Human resources. We are not excluded from the reduction since we are the source and executors of the degradation. Is it no wonder that so many are so certain that their lives have little or no purpose, value, or meaning. Used and discarded. The magic and mystery of this enormous universe rendered inaccessible. Subdued. Tamed.

It’s never made sense to me.

There are other systems of belief on this earth that are not built upon separation-from-nature but upon relationship-with-nature. Wild and tame are not oppositional but part of the same whole.

In workshops – teaching what I most needed to learn – I used to tell people that “Nothing is broken and nothing needs to be fixed.” Start with a loving premise. And see what happens. It fosters a different view of the world. It fosters a foundational shift in the understanding of “self”.

Starting with appreciation-of-self leads naturally to appreciation-of-others. Inclusive.

People incessantly trying to fix themselves grow blind to others. It’s the path of self-absorption. Exclusive.

People who fundamentally love their nature…begin with love. In love, they are naturally connected to all of nature, through their nature. Interdependent. Unified. There is nothing to fix. There are expansive experiences. Rather than tame, there is caring for the health of the whole. From a grounding in love, there is an entirely different set of criteria for making choices.

In love, it is easy to see: what we do to nature, we do to ourselves. What we do to others, we do to ourselves.

read Kerri’s blogpost about NATURE

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How To Harmonize [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

“Nature, in the intimate and in the vast, is not designed. It is designing. Our own nature confirms it.” ~ N.J. Berrill, You and the Universe (via The Marginalian)

 In one of our famous conversations, Horatio suggested I read Ernest Becker’s Pulitzer Prize winning book, The Denial of Death. So, I did. Horatio has never led me astray. Boiled down to an essence, as a unifying principle for religion and science, it unpacks the human dilemma of being a finite animal with an unlimited imagination. We are unique among creatures because we know we will die yet we have the capacity to imagine ourselves infinite. And so, to live beyond the veil, we think we must leave a mark, to serve a greater purpose. We must seek or give meaning to our limited time. No other animal carries so great a burden, this split-dance of separation and unity.

It is an understatement to suggest that it has set me to thinking. It is the ultimate in creative tension.

For ages, artists have painted the Danse Macabre. Some are a painting a warning: it’s coming so be ready! Some are painting an appeal: it’s precious so live every moment of it!

And this is what Horatio’s recommendation has me thinking: It’s a cycle of movement, like the tides or the cycle of the seasons, the movement of the earth, spinning around the sun…It is movement. Life is movement.

I was hired at the software start-up, not because I know anything about technology or coding, but because I see movement. Dynamic whole systems. In my brief foray into the start-up, I learned that, in order to be successful, software has no end. It is never finished. It must constantly iterate. It must never assume a completion. It is, in that way, like a human being, constantly becoming, cycling through periods of stability and periods of chaos, through lostness and found-ness, each generation supporting the cycle of the next generation.

We confuse ourselves by seeking an answer to our end, as if the design is finished. As if we are complete. That is a statement of our denial. We are movement. Relationship. Cycle. Never complete.

She knelt to take a photograph of the daisies, each at various points in their life cycle. A perfect visual for the single question-with-no-answer at the core of our short season on earth:

“…how to harmonize our cosmic smallness with the immensity of our creaturely experience…” ~ N.J. Berrill

read Kerri’s blogpost about DAISIES

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