Fly Above The Clouds [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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I was eighteen years old the first time I was above the clouds. It was a revelation. Even then I was in awe that I live in a time that I can see above the clouds. In the history of humanity, that makes me one of the few. One of the fortunate.

Miracles become the new norm and so, routine. Unseen.

Last week I was once again above the clouds. The sun was rising and the colors magnificent. I was propelled back in time to my first flight, my first sight of the thing Leonardo da Vinci could only dream about, what Van Gogh could only touch through imagination. I was revisited by my eighteen year old self and was once again awash in awe.

The cloak of routine drops and the miraculous is revealed. It is merely a matter of seeing it.

As I sat buckled into my seat, I wondered how much of my life I lose to the notion of ‘routine’ and, so, miss the obvious crackling truth: I’ve never lived this day before. I’ve never experienced this moment before. I am flying above the clouds every day. I have no idea what is about to happen, what I am about to see.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about FLYING ABOVE THE CLOUDS

 

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Look Up [on Merely A Thought Monday]

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Lester struck up a conversation with us on the train to Chicago. Sitting across the aisle, fresh from a job interview, he was chatty with relief. He has the gift of gab and our chat  was easy and wide ranging. Kids. Art. Relationships. We talked about how difficult it is for people to talk, how guarded we’ve become in our modern world, how armored we are against simple dialogue. We reveled in how unusual it is for strangers on a train to share life-stories for an hour without distraction or wary suspicion! We bemoaned how our political circumstance makes every conversation a mine field, how topic-avoidance defines many of our relationships.

We looked around the compartment and noted how social media is a double-edged sword, providing easy access to our children a thousand miles away but also a ready escape from the people sitting 3 feet away. Lester laughed and shared a moment he recently had with his girlfriend who is addicted to her phone. “She’s constantly looking for what’s trending on Facebook and Instagram. She’s forever lost in what’s trending.” he said. “The other day I told her, ‘Hey! I’m right here! Put down your phone! I’m trending!'”

Many years ago, when texting and social media were new forces in our world, my business partner and I had an ongoing debate about whether a real relationship was possible through social media. I was solidly in the ‘no’ camp. She was an enthusiastic ‘yes!’ Over the years, as the technology has evolved, I’ve stepped back and forth across that debate. The sword remains double-edged and I will most likely dance across that line forever. But I know this: nothing takes the place of reaching out and holding my wife’s hand. Having lunch with Kirsten or Craig is infinitely more rich than any text exchange. I can sit in a room while Kerri reads a book or scribbles notes for a song and not feel left out but all the time feel alone when the person I’m sharing space with is lost in what’s trending.

What’s trending will wash down the streaming river in moments and be replaced with yet another wave. Manufactured importance. It’s breaking news that constantly breaks, a drug that requires bigger and bigger doses. Immediacy is not necessarily substantive.

Lester might well have said, “Hey! I’m right here! I’m with you now. Isn’t that enough?”

 

read Kerri’s blog post about I’M TRENDING

 

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Listen To BabyCat [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

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Everyone has there safe spot. The place where they can relax, let their guard down. Rest. Mine is the chair in my studio. For years my dad’s safe spot was his reclining chair. He’d melt into it and fall fast asleep. Safe spots are contained spaces. Quiet. Known. Cocoons.

BabyCat has many safe spots. He moves with the sun from safe spot to safe spot around the house. He recently added another to his holdings. It is not fancy. There is nothing designer about his tastes though this choice surprised us: a toothpaste box from Costco.

Moments before it became a BabyCat safe spot, the box was loaded with coffee, eggs, a bottle of wine.  It had no importance. We tossed the box to the floor merely to make space on the counter. A discard en route to the recycling bag. And then BabyCat occupied it. We knew immediately that this was not temporary housing by the way he settled in. This was the real deal. He purred.

Though we’ve moved it to a less trip-able spot, the toothpaste box remains one of BabyCat’s favorites in his safe spot rotation. Watching him move from zen to zen I realized he is never far from a safe spot. He has constructed his life according to maximizing his inner quiet and comfort. It is his top priority.

There must be a lesson to be learned in there somewhere. This year, as I run from place to place, from one stress spot to the next, enrapt in my all-too-important list of things to accomplish, I will stop (periodically) and remember the power of a toothpaste box, the lesson of BabyCat and the real  possibility of moving through life prioritizing my peace  instead of raising my blood pressure.

BabyCat Lesson One: identify more than one safe spot. Then multiply.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BABYCAT’S BOX

 

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Read The Calendar [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Today we read the 2018 daily calendar and revisit the happenings of the past year. During the year, Kerri records in the calendar the events of each day. She tracks our experiences, big or small, and keeps her account nestled alongside the due date for bills, appointments, and birthday reminders. Astonishing sunsets. A special phone call. A remarkable meal with friends. It is our ritual on the first day of the new year, the inaugural of the new calendar, to read where we’ve gone, to revisit what we’ve encountered in the past 365 days.

I love this ritual. Inevitably, our review is punctuated with phrases like, “Wow! I’d totally forgotten that!” or “Can you believe that was just a few months ago?” It always reminds us how rich and full are our lives. It reminds us how much we forget in this fast moving river. It reminds us of the many challenges we’ve overcome, the troubles we’ve forded, and how much import and stress we gave to things that mattered little. It reminds us that the big events, the achievements, are rarely where the bounty is found.

It reminds us that there is nothing more important than sitting together at the end of  a cycle, the portal of the new year, and telling the story of us. We learn who we are by where we’ve been and how we’ve walked through our days. And, more to the point, telling this story of life-lived reminds us that, we will once again in a not-so-distant future, on the first day, review our year. So, to complete our ritual, we always ask ourselves, in the coming 365 days, amidst the unforeseen circumstances and uncontrollable events, what is the story that we will want to tell?

 

read Kerri’s blog post about THE NEW YEAR

 

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Juxtapose [on Merely A Thought Monday]

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I come to this eve of the new year holding two images, two art experiences juxtaposed. One is a review of the past. The other a resolution. Together they resonate.

The first, the review of things past that influence things to come, is Peter Jackson’s World War I documentary film, And They Shall Not Grow Old. It is a miracle of film making (stay to see the segment about how it was made that rolls after the credits. You will shake your head with wonderment). It takes you into the trenches and horrors of war.  We left the theatre both wowed by the film-making and shocked by the utter senselessness of war. Wowed by the human capacity to innovate and despairing at our capacity to willingly destroy ourselves for imagined gains. Both are technical achievements.

The morning after seeing the film I opened Brain Pickings and, given the film, I was smacked by a photograph of Earth taken from The Voyager spacecraft in the mid 1990’s. The Pale Blue Dot. It brought instant perspective to war – and everything else we imagine to be so important. Within the vast expanse of space, “a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.” I had to look twice to see the speck that is Earth. Our imagined importance is out of perspective with the realities of our circumstance. The fragility (the miracle) of our existence is generally lost in our daily myopia.

Two images.  Juxtaposed.

 

read Kerri’s blog post on THE NEW YEAR

 

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What’s The Story? [on Two Artists Tuesday]

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Follow Kirsten [on Merely A Thought Monday]

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At the end of the day I can say that I’ve coached or mentored many, many people. This is what I’ve learned: most people have a yearning and will take a timid step or two toward it. They will build the studio and then fear going into it. Many take a look at their dream and run screaming away from it.  The dream is too hot. Previous dream-touches came with shame or disappointment. Better to not try at all.

Then, there are those precious few people, those rare birds, that look at the edge and run at it. They jump. Safety, control, and security…fear…have no voice in the pursuit of their dream. Kirsten is one of those rare birds. When I met her, her heart was not happy. She was, I suppose, doing what she thought she should do. And then she saw her dream. In short order, she left her job, her security, her known-prescribed path. She left her should-dos. She dropped it all and ran at the edge and leapt without once looking to see if there was a bottom. She changed her body, her thoughts, her intentions. In a few short years – the blink of an eye where deep change is concerned – she transformed her life from a protected, armored experience, to something more vulnerable, crackling, spontaneous and alive.

She is on an artists’ path. Her life makes no sense to a world that worships 401k’s and picket fences. She works harder than any doctor, grinds out more hours than any accountant, or stock analyst, and does it for a pittance of the pay. Her pay comes from an internal driver, a soul satisfaction. She touches something that cannot be explained or justified. It also, once touched, cannot be denied. She stands solidly and with great intention on the burning point.

She heard the call and heeded it. Now, when we tell people of Kirsten they most often reply, “She’s living the life!” And I want to say, “No! Unlike most people she is living life.” She is one of those rare birds who can say, without doubt or equivocation, “My heart is happy.”

What could be a better gift to give the world – your family and friends – than a happy heart?

 

read Kerri’s blog post on MY HEART IS HAPPY

 

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