An Avalanche of Change [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Who knows why the mind associates one thing with another? Synapse firing often seems senseless. Sitting in the backyard, the warm orange and yellow sunset reflecting on the back fence, calling attention to the rusty sunflower, I was transported back in time to the Little Theatre, a converted mechanics shop tucked beside the maintenance yard on a high school campus. I ran a summer theatre program in that ramshackle-yet-sacred building for several years.

The memory that caught me while staring at the ferns and sunflowers at sunset was the day I arrived in town and found students stripping the asbestos insulation from the wiring of all the lighting instruments. Their teacher, the woman who taught theatre during the regular school year, had recently read an article about the dangers of asbestos. Since the lighting instruments were old and likely insulated with asbestos, she thought it was a good idea to have her students remove the insulation from the instruments.

I was gobsmacked. Asbestos is not dangerous until disturbed. Lighting instruments, like all things electrical become dangerous when the wiring is exposed and stripped of insulation. Not only was she exposing her students to the danger that she was trying to avoid but she was rendering the electrical equipment dangerous and a deadly fire hazard. She had good intentions. She had no idea what she was doing. In one fell swoop, she endangered her students lives on multiple fronts while ruining every single lighting instrument in the theatre.

I don’t know how ferns and sunflowers evoked that memory but I know where it took me: it immediately became a useful analogy for the current administration. Since they’ve cut and stripped regulations and oversight protections, Cyclospora, salmonella and eColi are run amok in our food chain. Measles are back with a vengeance. The Navy can’t feed its sailors as we fight a war without a reason. The oil reserves are disappearing. The healthcare system is collapsing. The justice department is soiling itself. Inflation is rising, but not nearly as fast as the national debt. They do not know what they are doing. They are stripping the asbestos from the lighting instruments. They let loose The Doge, elevated the Sycophants and are daily placing us in harms way while hampering our capacity to function. They are like the theatre teacher though not so well-meaning. This group is self-serving in its ineptitude.

Thankfully, my analogy doesn’t stop at the destruction. The actions of the theatre teacher ultimately served to remove her from her position. It was easy to see that she was a danger to her students and herself. The immediate necessity of having to resurrect or replace the lighting equipment was a tiny pebble that began an avalanche of change. In a few years there was a new theatre building with rehearsal space and shop space and updated technology. Our capacity to function not only improved, it opened doors to previously unimaginable possibilities.

That is my hope as I watch this kakistocracy systematically strip the insulation from our democratic wires. It’s becoming easier and easier to see that they are a danger to the people, the nation and to themselves. Ultimately, they will be removed and held accountable. The immediate necessity of fixing what they broke will lead to an avalanche of change that will prevent incompetence from every again grabbing the reins of the nation, and will open doors to previously unimaginable possibilities.

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(During my time at the Little Theatre I would often take a break at sunset, climb to the roof and watch the world bath in warm orange and yellow light. I would take a breath in a busy day before climbing back down the ladder into the vibrant creative space – my laboratory space – that was a small black box theatre made from a converted mechanics shop. Sacred space. Maybe those synapses make sense after all.)

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUNFLOWER SUNSET

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Happy Harbinger [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The space between our garage and the neighbors fence is a narrow passageway. It is out-of-sight-out-of-mind. As the original debris field of the house, there are mounds of earth that I long ago learned I’d never be able to dig out. A shovel cannot penetrate the bits of brick and wood, old cement and wire, that have long since petrified and are covered by a thin layer of dirt. Gnarly weeds grow in abundance, some taller than I am.

The passage is a neighborhood animal trail for the fox and opossum so we occasionally toss old broccoli or carrots gone rubbery for the critters to eat. Tossing critter snacks is the only time I ever visit the passageway. On a recent snack-toss-expedition I was astounded to see a mighty sunflower rising high above the weeds! A sunflower towering above the debris field. It felt auspicious. An affirmation. A positive sign of good things to come.

I looked at the sunflower in utter disbelief. It looked at me with amusement. I ran into the house to grab Kerri so she could marvel at our happy harbinger.

There are few things on this earth that human beings have so thoroughly endowed with positive symbolic meanings as the sunflower. Happiness. Health and longevity. Good luck. Abundance. Loyalty. There is no dark undertone, no shadow symbology with sunflowers. It is the Shirley Temple of symbols.

From the outside, our life together this past decade probably appears to most like a debris field. Our career implosion left bits and pieces of us scattered all over the tarmac. And yet, you would be hard pressed to find two happier people, two more intentionally grateful human beings.

Yesterday we discovered chunks of tar on the back patio. Looking up we saw that part of the roof over our sunroom had peeled back, probably from the recent wind storms. As I prepared myself to panic, Kerri smiled and said, “I am going to choose to be grateful that we found this before it really became a problem.” My panic hissed out of me like air from a balloon. No panic necessary. No need to get lost in the problem. Just gratitude with an eye toward solutions. I clamped the layers down until the roofing guy could come.

From the top of the ladder I could see the sunflower. It looked like it was watching over us. I remembered the lesson of one of Aesop’s Fables: what looks like a tragedy is often a gift. What looks like a boon sometimes brings a curse. And, in time, the curse will eventually open the way to a blessing.

“Is it a good thing or a bad thing?” I quipped with the sunflower. It simply smiled in reply.

RIVERSTONE on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SUNFLOWER

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Tally [on KS Friday]

“It’s a haiku day,” I said, feeling empty of anything useful to write. She’s already rapidly clicking away on her keyboard.

The sunflower grows/More beautiful over time/Green vine seeks wisdom.

Counting syllables/ on my fingers, I tally/the word “beautiful.”

Three or four? I ask/She’s deep in thought, can’t hear me/Syllables confound.

Beautiful is three!/”My haiku, my choice,” I quip/Who invents these rules?

Green vine seeks wisdom/Rust has seen many seasons/Green seeks. Rust stands still.

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read Kerri’s blogpost about SUNFLOWER

silent days/blueprint for my soul © 1997 kerri sherwood

Seed The Pocket [on Flawed Wednesday]

I’ve appreciated this sunflower for many years and until a month ago it never made me think of Ukraine. Now, that’s all I see. Thus, the power of a symbol. Sunflower seeds placed into the pockets of Russian soldiers by brave Ukrainian elders. “So, some good may come from your death.”

Walking through the antique mall, Brad spotted an ugly homemade sculpture. Golf balls with multiple screws protruding, spray painted and supported by wire rods. “Look, the coronavirus!” he exclaimed. Three years ago spheres with spiky knobs would have made me wrinkle my brow but never associate the shape with a virus. Now?

And masks? Will we ever see a surgical mask without feeling the divide in our nation? A confederate flag paraded through the Capitol? Members of the Capitol Police beaten with the stars and stripes; symbols matter.

Every year more and more our written communication is reimagined with emojis. Visual symbols. The new Ideogram. A thumbs up. A heart. Laughing face. Saying more with less or at the very least opening up our communication to broader interpretation. I find that I’m symbolically rolling my eyes more and more. Exclamation point. HAHA! Know what I mean? Winky face.

Leonard Shlain wrote some remarkable books about how our brains are wired by how we communicate; he posits that linear language, the introduction of writing drove us into our left brains and away from our holistic right. Perhaps in our movement back toward the ideogram we are rebalancing? A course correction or returning to center? It takes more than a few years for brains to rewire. Our descendants will, no doubt, either write books about it or communicate their thoughts through a combo platter of alphabet and pictograph.

Either way, we can only hope they grasp the meaning of the peace symbol. Or, at the very least, learn how to give it more preference than the dollar sign. Or, better yet, figure out how to make peace profitable. Can you imagine? Certainly there will be a symbol for that.

Until then, sunflowers in the killing fields. Sad face. Broken heart.

read Kerri’s blog post about THE SUNFLOWER