Still Standing [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Yesterday our walk in the fog and wet took us by the x-mas tree recycle drop-off. The morning after Christmas and a tree was already stripped of lights and baubles and dumped in the lot. On to the next, I suppose.

No matter how I spin it, the story of the tree-in-the-lot is not happy. Used and discarded. Maybe there was an argument. Maybe this lonely tree was in the home of a lonely person and it was just too hard…

There is a post-holiday return-to-reality akin to returning home after a vacation get-away but it seems a bit too soon for that. We have yet to ring in the new year and I want to stay in the escape-from-reality-zone as long as possible. I want to store-up some positive vibes for the certain chaos and sanity-drought that lies dead ahead.

This morning I woke up exhausted. The fog is still with us so I’m not harboring any hope of a spirit-lift from the sun. I found it impossible to focus so while Kerri was on a call I crawled under a blanket on the couch and appreciated all the beauty we created in our home these past few weeks. A visitor on the Eve said our house was warm. It is. It warms. I’m not sure my appreciation tour gave me a lift – I’m still exhausted – but it definitely pointed me in the right direction.

While enjoying our decorations and lights I thought of that lonely tree dumped in the lot. I wondered if the person or the family that so quickly discarded their celebration also consciously – or unconsciously – discarded the very thing that might boost their spirit. I suspect we are all at one time or another guilty of sabotaging our peace, undermining our joy. As a nation we just successfully chucked out the baby with the bathwater, proof-positive that anything is possible – individually and en masse.

A rush of idioms just poured into my brain-pan but I will spare you – and me – the disruption. In the meantime, like us, I hope your tree is still standing and you are still standing in your house that warms spirits.

Each New Day on the album Right Now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about a HOLIDAY LIFT

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After All [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Food is the most primitive form of comfort.” ~ Sheilah Graham Westbrook

In anyone’s book, our circumstances at present are extreme. And so, we cook.

My role in the kitchen is sous chef and clean-up. Kerri is the master chef though she is generous and does not require me to address her as “Yes, Chef!” Dogga is the third member of our team. He is an enthusiastic taste-tester and also serves the role of floor clean-up. We are a good team. The simple action of cooking together is large part of our recipe for cooking-up-comfort. We love it.

The actual food that we cook is, of course, a huge part of the comfort infusion. We range from chicken soup to Kerri’s pasta sauce. Lately, we’ve been making grilled cheese sandwiches and, I’ve noticed, recipes that require mashed potatoes. Truthfully, we could probably strip everything else off the plate but the mashed potatoes are the essential. They are the epicenter of comfort. We have in the past made mashed potatoes all-by-themselves and feasted on an intentional mainline of food-cheer.

My theory of comfort food is paradoxical (and obvious). Comfort food takes you back in time. Kerri’s mom made comfort-mashed-potatoes so they are a direct connection to Beaky. Comfort food also drops you into the present moment. The delicious fulfillment of warm expectation. There’s nothing like taste and smell – a happy dance of two senses – to pull everything into the right-here-and-now. And in this moment, wrapped in a yummy warm blanket of tasty comfort, all is well. At least for now. And, in the end, it makes us realize that this bite, this moment, is all that we have. Things are not so bad after all.

right now/right now © 2010 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about MASHED POTATOES

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Find Up [on KS Friday]

We almost turned around. From the path we could hear the large earth movers rolling up and down the beach. “They’re working,” she said. “Why are they working? It’s the weekend!” Beyond the beach, massive cranes plucked unthinkably large stones from barges and placed them onto the breakwater. We decided to take a look. Maybe we could find a quiet spot at the far end of the beach. The day was scorching. We needed to put our feet in the water.

We stepped around the “Stay Out! Under Construction” sign. Considering who we’d call if arrested, we climbed the hill through the brush and tall grasses before emerging onto the beach. We stopped and laughed at what we saw. The far end of the beach was packed with people. A party boat was anchored just off shore. Jet skis parked at the shoreline. A family hauled in a barbeque. A man threw balls into the surf for his Goldens to retrieve.

“I guess we won’t be alone in the jail.” Our rogue fantasy blushed and vanished.

After wading in the water we spread our towels in a shady spot just beneath the weathered trees. We watched the massive machines construct the breakwaters, a tug boat deftly spun a rock laden barge into the queue. I wondered how the tiny boat could possibly move the massive barge.

Kerri lay back and shot photos of the clouds. She captured our sentinel tree in a few shots. One shot immediately brought to mind an early Georgia O’Keeffee painting. The Lawerence Tree. Georgia stayed at DH Lawerence’s ranch on a visit to New Mexico. At night she’d lay back on a bench beneath a huge pine tree. She painted what she saw. Google the painting and you’ll learn that there’s some confusion: what is the top of the painting? I prefer the trunk of the tree coming from “the top,” just as in Kerri’s photograph.

In the archive I have a few of those confusions. One painting in particular, Earth Interrupted VI, Kerri suggests that I painted it upside-down. “Green at the bottom. Blue at the top.” It’s not a unique problem. Many great masterworks spent decades on their heads before someone noticed and flipped them.

“It’s nice,” I said of her photograph. It perfectly captured the theme of the day. Upside-down. Expect solitude and find a crowd – yet in the shade we found sweet solitude. Believe you are going rogue only to discover you are merely one of the pack. The plan for the day fell apart and led us to the beach and this moment of rolling upside-down surprises. “I’m glad we did this,” I smiled, laying back to see what she saw, to wonder if I have ever really known which way is up.

each new day/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE TREE & SKY

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See The Awesome [on KS Friday]

Our favorite Wander Women posted the next installment of their through-hike on the Arizona trail. They are 300 miles in and passed through a burn zone that impacted a Saguaro cactus forest. Some of the giant cactus had perished. Many were burned yet somehow, survived. New growth pushed through the top of the blackened resilient plants. I was awestruck.

A decade or so ago, when life was hard, when I least believed in human kindness, I set out each day on my walk across the city determined to count acts of generosity. The acts of benevolence were everywhere and by far outnumbered the aggressive honkers and the impatience of frustrated commuters. By the time I reached my studio I wondered how there could be so much kindness, so much benevolence in the world, unseen. I wondered why our shared story was of a scary-angry-world rather than a world of munificence. The evidence did not support the narrative.

Looking for kindness in others inspired acts of kindness in me. Sometimes, after I witnessed a generosity, I approached the person who gave of themselves and acknowledged their act. I essentially said, ‘I saw that and it was awesome.” You may or may not be surprised to learn how impactful a simple acknowledgement can be. People smiled and blushed. People waved it off as if it was nothing.

Kindness is everything.

My walks across the city were more than a decade ago. The shared narrative of scary-angry-world is louder now than ever yet I wonder if I took a walk across my city-of-yore would I see a different result or the same? Kindness flies mostly under the radar, people wave it off as small gestures; it doesn’t pull high ratings like bullying or blood or scandal. We live within the narrative we feed.

I suspect kindness is as pervasive as fear-mongering but kindness doesn’t care if it gets the headline.

A sentinel stands on our trail. A tall stump, long ago burned by fire, perhaps a lightning strike. Perhaps its blackened scars are from a controlled burn. It reminds me of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree. The birds use it for perching. The squirrels burrow at its base. Life teems around and because of the blackened stump. It always captures our attention. I imagine it is kind since so many creatures and living things find support in its watchful presence. New growth will never push through the top of this stump. It is no longer self-generating. It is, however, like a standing nurse log, new life teems around, on top of, and through it. A silent giver. I am always tempted to step off the path and whisper, “I saw that and it was awesome.”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE STUMP

transience/right now © 2010 kerri sherwood

Be The Rain [on KS Friday]

Simple elegance. Courteous goodwill. Thoughtfulness. Consideration. Do honor. Ennoble. Look up the word “grace” and these are the phrases and synonyms that you will find.

John Updike wrote that “Rain is grace; rain is the sky descending to the earth; without rain, there would be no life.” California is on fire. So is Greece and Turkey. Siberia. Reservoirs are shrinking. So many are looking to the sky awaiting its descent to the earth. Awaiting simple grace.

When I lived in Seattle I delighted on a hot summer day of running through the International Fountain. I was not alone. Children and adults alike squealed as they played in the dancing jets of water. It was a joy to go to the fountain, sit in the spray and watch people play, rest, and rejuvenate with and in the water.

We are following couples as they through-hike the Pacific Crest Trail and the Continental Divide Trail. They plan their days according to their water sources. There are water-less stretches that are made do-able only because a trail-angel maintains a cache of water for the hikers.

Trail-angels, people who, for no other reason than having the satisfaction of helping ease the journey of others, give me hope. They bring respite, perhaps because someone in their past did it for them and it mattered. They make difficult passages do-able. Sometimes they provide a ride into town. They look for opportunities to help. They are the rain when rain is nowhere to be found.

Isn’t that grace? Rain meeting earth? Angel meeting a need, providing water so a thirsty traveler might drink and continue walking?

Grace on the album Right Now

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

read Kerri’s blog post about WATER

grace/right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

Listen To The House [on KS Friday]

Our house is telling a tale. If you wandered through the rooms you’d see two related intentions. First, there is a transformation in the sunroom that reaches into the outside spaces, the deck and patio. They are now designed for quiet and for simple gathering. They are beautiful no matter which direction that you look. We are attending to our peace-of-mind. The ripple is reaching into all of the rooms.

Second, the dining room is full of bins and boxes. The table is a place for sorting and reviewing. We are cleaning out. We are making space. We are letting go of non-essentials.

My favorite part of both intentions is that there is no rush. Our cleanse is not manic. Our space-creation is rolling, meditative, fluid. We are, quite literally, taking our time. Appreciating our time, our space, our sanctuary. We are using dishes that have never been used, attending to the beauty as well as the taste of our meals.

We are not spending vast sums of money to achieve our design. In fact, almost none-at-all. We’ve bought a few plants. Some pillows. Replacement bulbs for the string of outdoor lights. We are mostly working with what we have. Rearranging. Eliminating.

As Heather once told me, what you do outside you are also doing inside. I hope she is right in that. It implies that, inside, we are making our peace-of-mind a priority. We are removing much of the clutter from our souls. Cleaning out the garbage bag or, perhaps, simply letting-go-the-non-essential-fight. Taking stock. Making space. Appreciating the day.

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

read Kerri’s blog post about the FIRE TOWER

taking stock/right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

Count What Is Right [on KS Friday]

As I came up through the garbage layer of sleep, that half-awake state where all the gunk of being human floats like detritus on the ocean awaiting consciousness’ return, I thought, “I want to have a full day in which I make no diagnosis. In other words, solve no problems, make no judgements, resolve no issues…A mindful day.

Mindfulness is only mindfulness when there is no judgment or discernment or necessity involved. Have the experience, make no meaning. Try it. It’s hard to do. Minds like to story things. I know that, later today, I will sit at the drafting table, script and draw the next batch of images for my latest project – try doing that without judgment or discernment!

Somewhere in my dark and sordid past I realized that I never had a problem or a stress that I didn’t create. The Greek tragedy, the absolute imperative, the all-too-important-agendas were not happening outside of me. I was making the agendas and lists, storying myself into rushing around or fighting back against ogres of my own making. Minds like to story things and conflict is the driver of story. Yearning meets obstacle. Desire meets impediment.

Why not make up a better story? Be careful! There’s an all-important caveat, a prerequisite in telling a better, stress free, story: it only becomes possible when the teller of the story relinquishes their oh-so-important-self-importance. Better stories are lived off the pedestal. Better stories, stress free, are available to tell when the teller realizes that their season on this earth is a passing thing and the notion of leaving a lasting mark just might be hubris.

I’ve been enjoying the reemergence of the hosta plants this spring. They are intrepid. They spread easily. Not so long ago their spiky heads jabbed up through the earth. They looked like little spearheads. DogDog had to dance between them. Overnight, the soldiers-beneath-the-soil transformed as their spears unfurled into tiny variegated leaves. A day later, or so it seemed, the tiny leaves swelled into thick dense clusters. Every year the hostas claim a bit more of the yard. People in these parts dig them up and give them away to their neighbors and friends when they realize that the hostas are taking over and will soon be spreading into the house.

I confessed to Kerri yesterday that I was, very intentionally, counting what is right in the world. It will come as no surprise to you that the list of what is right in the world greatly outstrips what is wrong. The hostas of my mind are the generosities and kindnesses. I want to be overrun by them. The little things. It will also not come as a surprise to you that, if you start counting what is right in your world, you’ll discover that the vast majority of what you find are the simple, the ordinary. The everyday. Kerri and I make dinner together. DogDog leads me to the gate when I’m taking out the trash. Feeling the breeze on my face as I open the door first thing in the morning. The first sip of coffee.

What is right in this world includes Kerri’s music. There is nothing I love so much as when she plays. She didn’t pick this composition for today’s melange. I wanted to hear it. That’s all. That’s enough. Right Now. It’s another name for mindfulness. It’s on the list, like hostas.

right now is available on iTunes

read Kerri’s blog post about HOSTAS

right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

Feed The Mantra [on KS Friday]

As part of the 2020 census, Kerri and I were randomly selected to participate in a healthcare questionnaire. On first glance this might seem worse than a spoon full of castor oil but we were excited because the system of healthcare in America has been ruinous to us. There isn’t a single life decision that we make that doesn’t run through the fractious draconian system we mistake for health care [note: the good people who populate the system, the nurses and doctors and technicians are remarkable. My barb is meant for the money machine that intercepts our capacity to create a system that places the health of the citizens as central to the mission].

We spent an hour on the phone with a lovely woman who asked us multiple choice questions that were carefully written to avoid any real data. When she asked us if, over the last 12 months, we’d experienced anxiety, hopelessness, or depression, we burst out laughing. She laughed, too. “Was our level of anxiety high, somewhat high, moderate, little, or very little?” We answered with more laughter and she said, “Well, I have to ask!”

I told her the story of taking Kerri to the hospital the night she broke her wrists. Wrapped up like a mummy, in great pain, we sat for several minutes in the parking lot staring at two doors. The first led to the emergency room and would, no doubt, also lead to bankruptcy. The second door led to urgent care and perhaps an inability to care for a pianist with two broken wrists. We debated our choices for several long minutes. Keep in mind, we have healthcare. It is more expensive than all of the rest of our bills combined. And, we are afraid to use it.

“Have you avoided treatment or refused treatment in the anytime in the last 12 months because of cost?”

“Yes.”

We told the lovely woman conducting the questionnaire how much our premiums actually cost and she gasped. Literally. “I had no idea,” she muttered. Her job provides healthcare.

We access our coverage through the misnomer, Affordable Care Act. It provides a supplement so we can actually “afford” our coverage but access also comes with a cliff. It’s constructed like a cage. It’s an all or nothing abyss that prevents us from earning a living. We cannot earn enough to pay our bills because we’d have to jump a mighty-premium-reimbursal-crevasse to make enough money to survive the cliff. Catch-22. It’s why I stopped showing or selling my paintings; a single extra dollar could have pushed us over. Our get-out-of-jail-free-card? A job with healthcare.

For a moment, the lovely woman winced and was silent on the other end of the phone. “There’s no space to put this information,” she said. “I’ll put it in the notes at the end,” she said to herself. We knew, all three of us, that no one will ever read the notes.

We left the questionnaire disappointed but affirmed in our belief that nothing will change anytime soon. Our fatal blind spot in these perhaps-soon-to-be-united-states is that we think everything needs to run like a business. It’s why our schools fail. It is why our prisons are over populated. Market forces come with levers that work well if you are selling electronics but are debilitating if your are trying to educate children or provide accessible healthcare to a citizenry. I’ve seen many, many arts organizations and other not-for-profits enter a death spiral when a “well-meaning” board member insists that the organization run like a business. Apples cannot be oranges.

We feed each other a not-insignificant mantra these days. This is where we are. Let’s not miss this day. Rise above the circumstance. Each day, new. Let’s live, fully live, right here, Right Now.

RIGHT NOW and all of Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes

read Kerri’s blog post on EACH NEW DAY

each new day/right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

Stand In Ambiguity [on KS Friday]

Liminality: the quality of ambiguity or disorientation that occurs in the middle stage of a rite of passage, when participants no longer hold their pre-ritual status but have not yet begun the transition to the status they will hold when the rite is complete.

Here we are, just like you, standing in the in-between place. The liminal space. The previous way is all-but-gone. The new way has not yet arrived.

We did not know in January when she fell and broke both wrists that the fall would signal the beginning of a transition. Therapy was interrupted by a pandemic. Job loss. More job loss. Job reduction. A wet floor, a second fall on an already injured wrist. More disorientation, a step further into uncertainty. “Who will I be if I can’t play?” she asked. Her question has layers. “Who will I be if I can’t play like I used to?” “Who will I be if my hands are no longer the hands that I know?” She has artist’s hands. Musician hands. This is no small question.

Given a whirl of disappearing norms, we are doing well within the ambiguity.

2020 will serve as a marker for all of us. There was a way of life before the pandemic. There was a way of life before the liar-president. New ways will arise. Out of chaos, order. Right now, there is full-press-disorientation.

Our threshold seems to stretch in all directions, inner and outer. Personal and national. Professional and spiritual. The rite, we know, is not yet complete. The ritual wound is still open and hurting. Our only certainty is that we stand in this not-here-not-there place, filled with mostly unanswerable questions, letting go of what-has-been.

Nothing is ever black and white and that is more true now as we slowly turn to face a new way.

IT’S NOT BLACK & WHITE on the album RIGHT NOW is available on iTunes

read Kerri’s blog post about IT’S NOT BLACK & WHITE

it’s not black & white/right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

Practice Thinking [on KS Friday]

“The capacity to think astutely is often undervalued in the world of action. But philosopher Hannah Arendt identified the capacity to think as the foundation of a healthy and resilient democracy. Having experienced totalitarianism in Nazi Germany, then having fled it, she devoted much of her life to studying it and its opposite, democracy. She believed that thinking thoughtfully in public deliberations and acting democratically were intertwined and that totalitarianism is built upon and sustained by deceit and thought control. In order to resist efforts by the powerful to deceive and control thinking, Arendt believed that people needed to practice thinking.” Westley, Zimmerman, Patton, Getting To Maybe: How The World Is Changed

If thinking clearly is the hard line between democracy and totalitarianism, then we in these once-united-states are in a world of trouble.

For evidence, look no further than this past week. I begin with a single word: debate. Full stop. To assume thought is to assume too much. It was painful to watch conservative pundits attempt to spin sense and justification into 90 minutes of lie-vomit and fact-abuse. It was even more painful to watch thinking people, already exhausted by years of gaslighting, grasp for some sense of what they had just witnessed. The transience of the American experiment.

I shook my head during a post-debate-news segment when a woman cloaked in MAGA swag said that there shouldn’t be fact checkers at the debates because, “People should be able to say their truth.” Where-oh-where has our thought-practice gone?

Beneath the noise of the debate was a ruling in a slander case brought against Tucker Carlson of Fox News fame. The court ruled in Fox’s favor citing,”… that given Mr. Carlson’s reputation, that any reasonable viewer ‘arrive[s] with an appropriate amount of skepticism’ about the statements he makes.” It has not been my experience that watchers of Fox News are necessarily awash in reason or any amount of skepticism. They believe the spin they hear in that big bubble of fantasy. The judge wrote, “The “‘general tenor’ of the show should then inform a viewer that [Carlson] is not ‘stating actual facts’ about the topics he discusses and is instead engaging in ‘exaggeration’ and ‘non-literal commentary.’ “

O accountability, where is thy sting? O thought, where is thy champion?

Democracy is dependent upon our capacity to discern between exaggeration and fact, lie and truth. We are now a nation that cannot grasp the simplicity of science in a pandemic. Wear a mask. Practice social distancing. Those two actions could have saved thousands of lives. They still could save thousands of lives. I shook my head in despair when people I love repeated with gusto the claim that our numbers of infection are so high because we do so many tests. I thought but did not say, “Think! For god’s sake, just think about what you are saying!” It is too much to ask.

Kerri and I have met walls of angry criticism when we ask folks to check their media sources. How dare we suggest that propaganda isn’t news! It’s easy to check whether or not you are being led by the nose if you care to do it. And that, I fear, is where the line between democracy and totalitarianism dissolves. The care to do it. We would rather be comfy and fixed in our news bubbles, gloating in our mutual agreement, than practice thinking.

Without that hard line, the foundation of our healthy and resilient democracy can only crumble.

TRANSIENCE on the album RIGHT NOW is available in iTunes

read Kerri’s blog post about TRANSIENCE

transience/right now ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood