A Symbol of Hope [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

There is no more appropriate symbol on the first day of the new year than the pine cone. It is an ancient symbol that reaches across cultures and religions. Spiritual awakening, inner vision, new growth, enduring spirit.

When we were married, Joan gave us a box of pine cones. We’ve followed her suggestion and each year commit a cone to fire to release the seeds. New life. The symbology also includes resilience because fire is often required to free the seeds. Fire transforms.

2025 was like a forest fire in these un-United States. It is my hope, our hope, that the hot authoritarian fire of 2025 released the seeds of democracy’s renewal, that we awaken – reawaken – to the enduring spirit of our diverse nation and the promise of equality under the law, the expectation of liberty and justice for all. It is the epicenter, the aspiration-seed planted by our founders and protected by our Constitution.

On this, the first day of this new year, 2026, there is no more appropriate symbol of hope for our future than the pine cone.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE PINECONE

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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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Strive To Be One [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“Love takes off the masks we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within.” ~ James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time.

Sometimes I pause and reread the previous few weeks of my blogposts. My first thought after my latest read was, “Good God! I’m bipolar!” I’ve learned not to listen to my first thoughts. They are not nearly as considered or considerate as the thoughts that follow. I am lately writing about love.

Love. This is the rest of James Baldwin’s quote: “I use the word “love” here not merely in the personal sense but as a state of being, or a state of grace – not in the infantile American sense of being made happy but in the tough and universal sense of quest and daring and growth.”

Love takes off the masks. The masks we fear we cannot live without. The masks we can no longer live within. It is a tug-of-war. It is vulnerable to be seen. Yet, to grow, old identities, like suits of armor, must be discarded. To grow up it is necessary to show up, to step-out-there.

Jonathan once told us that a tree must split its bark in order to grow. Snakes shed their skin. And people open their hearts and learn what it is to love.

“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up.” ~ James Baldwin

I found some measure of comfort about my nation (and my latest writing) in James Baldwin’s guiding words. Perhaps we are in a struggle to remove an old and ugly mask, still in place. Racial division. Misogyny. We fear what we will see if we drop this patriarchal mask. Yet, our love of country is requiring us to grow. To take a hard look at who we are and where we’ve come from. To shed the mask we can no longer live within. We are bigger in heart and spirit than our original colonial notion. The mask of divide-and-conquer is suffocating to the world’s greatest democracy, a nation of immigrants come together under the banner e pluribus unum, out of many, one.

Love makes us dare to grow up. Love makes us strive to be one.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HEARTS

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Feel It [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

I worked in or consulted with many schools and businesses. I was always amazed at how much the organization mirrored the personality of the principal or CEO. An angry boss always made for an angry organization. A bright light at the top of the org chart shone in every corner and heart of the community.

And so it goes for nations. This week I had two important calls with dear friends that I have not seen for over a decade. Both commented on the lightness of spirit they feel since Kamala Harris became the Democratic nominee for President. Hope is in the air. A leader who laughs. A candidate who speaks of opportunity, equality and possibility…The energy of optimism is palpable, the uplift is trickling down. You can feel it.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TRICKLE DOWN

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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A Double Sign of Hope [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Since they do not show-up every year, we take it as a sign of hope when a frog suddenly appears in our tiny pond. It’s late in the season so we thought this summer was a no-frog-year. And then, on Thursday, the final night of the DNC, as I finished scrubbing and refilling our bird bath, I heard the tell-tale splash. I turned and saw it nestled on a rock just beneath the water line.

“We have a frog!” I whispered to Kerri. She gasped, grabbed her camera and hurriedly tip-toed to the pond.

A sign of hope.

It is a hallmark of our relationship that we look for – that we assign and actively celebrate – signs of hope. Deer on the trail? “That’s a good sign!” The brilliant sunset on the day of our wedding? “We’ve been given a remarkable gift – a sign!” A dragonfly landing on our shoulder, a hawk that flies across our path, the owl that calls in the night, the turtle that meets us on the trail, our car that against all odds gets us home…Messengers of hope. Spirit lifters.

We find what we seek.

We named our frog DeeNCee Lullabaloo. DeeNCee came on the night that Kamala Harris accepted her party’s nomination for president. A spirit lifter. A trailblazer. A bright light. A sign of hope and joy arising from a very dark night. So, DNC. DeeNCee. The surname Lullabaloo is a moniker marking this time we have chosen to inhabit, to create and embrace: the lull. I laughed aloud when this morning a quote by Georgia O’Keeffe crossed my screen: I have done nothing all summer but wait for myself to be myself again.” A perfect description of the lull. Lullabaloo.

DeeNCee Lullabaloo. Jumping out of nowhere. A double sign of hope.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DeeNCee

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What Makes Us Classics [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

For a little perspective: the body of her computer is a 2008. The brains are from 2012. That she has been able to keep it going for so long – and produced so much with it – is nothing short of a miracle. It is a horse-and-buggy in a freeway world.

Kerri is a child of the depression – a deep imprint left in her psyche by her parents – so she refuses to “buy new” until the old falls apart. As much as I have tried to explain that technology is not like clothes or appliances, they age differently, she maintains her stalwart determination to ride her computer until it fails. And, that day has come.

Lazarus had an easier job of coming back to life than will Kerri’s computer. But stalwart determination dictates that we must at least try to pull the spirit of her computer back from the void. It is with the same determination that she has recently managed, somehow, to publish five blog posts and one cartoon a week with her equally ancient iPad (refusing to touch my computer).

Stubborn determination. Brilliant work-arounds. Tech-death-denial, infrastructure collapse…is no obstacle. A husband who’s in awe of her perseverance, her unwavering belief in squeezing out the last drop of possibility, yet learned to hold his tongue, nod his head and support her dedication to try-try-again. That, dear ones, is what makes us classics.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CLASSICS

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Amor Fati [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

A week ago there was snow. It came and went like a sacred Tibetan sand painting: between the initial pristine white blanket and its rapid disappearance, it passed through several glorious configurations. My favorite was the field of pocks sculpted by drips falling from eaves and branches. Nature is both an excellent painter and a sculptor.

An old friend sent us a message on Kerri’s birthday. “Don’t let the old woman and old man in.” We are lucky, we have young spirits and are given to exploration and play. Nevertheless, I took the message to heart, though with a subtle modification. I altered the message to eliminate the resistance. Rather than erect a fortress against aging, I want to feed the spirit in my life-sand-painting. I want to appreciate all the phases and beauty along the way as nature sculpts me. Amor fati. Love your fate. Love your face. Love your spirit and the day in which it dances.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SNOW POCKS

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Homecoming [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

Kerri is back.

She disappeared over 4 years ago. A world-class pianist who fell and broke both her wrists. And then, fell again. Her artistry fractured, her community blew apart and then consumed itself. Pandemic isolation. Depression. Confusion. Hurt. Despair.

And then, in a moment that I can only describe as miraculous, in the most-unlikely-scenario, she let it go and laughed. The choice was easy. The heaviness fell from her spirit. Sitting next to her, I felt the light return. It was so startling that I turned and stared. It was like watching a sunrise. There she was. She came back. After 4 years, she came home.

We walked down the hill, hand-in-hand, and got into the car. We drove away. We literally giggled for miles, overwhelmed with the return of spaciousness in her spirit, the bright light shining in her eyes. Ahhh.

Perfect.

read Kerri’s blogpost about HOMECOMING

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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A New Day [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A new day.

Sometimes it takes a storm blowing through to make you realize what has value and what does not. The tornado takes the house, scatters the possessions, but the family is safe. No one is harmed. The wind takes the clutter and leaves a certain clarity.

I once knew an accomplished artist who lost his life’s work in a house fire. What I assumed would be tragic, for him was an opportunity: “I’m alive,” he said, elated. “Now I have a completely clean slate and can discover my work all over again.”

The storm comes. The veil falls. The Great and Powerful Oz is nothing more than a man with levers and illusions of grandeur hiding his real face behind a curtain. Dorothy suddenly knows without doubt what is true and what is fabrication. It’s quietly liberating.

She watches The Great and Powerful drift away in his hot air balloon and clumsy illusion. Dorothy realizes that no one can give her what she already possesses, an integrity of purpose, a vibrant spirit, surrounded by honest people who love her in a place she calls “home.”

A new day.

Nap with DogDog & BabyCat, 36″x48″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about A NEW DAY

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Pass Through [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

“Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does.” ~ James Baldwin

We watched each day as the pink tulips passed through their many phases of life, each beautiful and surprising. As they neared the last chapter, I thought they echoed orchids. The subtle pinks ran to the edges of the wrinkling petals, heads bowed, devotees in quiet prayer.

Initially, the tulips brought hope and light into our house. For weeks the table had been stacked with so-much-paper, a mammoth project. We cleared the table of its heavy burden and replaced the weighty paper with a row of delicate tulips. We’d catch ourselves staring into the dining room; inevitably one of us would say, “I love this.”

20 would call it the contrast principle. The delicate lightness of the tulips were made more pronounced because of the heaps of paper that preceded it. Perhaps. All I know is that the tulips lifted my spirit like few other things have in these winter months. They became a celebration of love. A symbol that joins daisies in our canon of symbols and will forever signify a step into love. A new chapter. A next chapter.

As it bowed its petals, as they began to fall, we found ourselves more rapt in their beauty, not less. Their age made them translucent. Fragile. Their impermanence somehow made them eternal. As it should be. Passing through transformation.

“I love this, she said, squeezing my hand.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TULIPS

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