All Feminine [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

If the sun is symbolic of male energy, Apollo and his chariot, then the moon is all feminine. Artemis. Selene. Isis. Parvati. Yemaya. Durga. Cihuacoatl, Kali. Mary.

The moon provides a symbolic-something that the sun does not: it changes.

While we use both the sun and the moon to mark time, the moon shapeshifts in her cycle-path around the earth. She waxes and wanes. Hers is a more complex symbology. She will have you listen to your intuition. She will ask you to close your eyes and feel. She will point you in the direction of your heart. She will receive your yearnings and your whispered prayers and hold them close until you are ready to live them. She will slip through your fingers. She will have you drop the reins and allow the horse to run.

Not so much the sun. He’ll send you outside to play. He’ll send you to school to develop your reason.

I wonder at the long-ago people who looked to the sky and understood the direct relationship between their survival and the primal forces called sun and moon. The stars. They slowly developed their relationship and participation with these energies, recognizing the movement of the celestial forces that also moved within their bodies. They associated. They identified. They engaged.

They symbolized, assigning identities and attributes that aligned the deep mystery of their existence with the celestial bodies that oriented them to the seasons and cycles of life. They mythologized. They worshiped. They personified, projecting themselves into the dance of it all. Storying.

Yin and yang. Outer focus and introspection. Birth and rebirth. Male and female in balance.

Theirs was an experience of direct connection. Their symbols were not intellectual abstractions like ours. Their symbols were alive, open gates to the mystery. They cast themselves as part-of rather than as removed-and-above-it-all. Their relationship with the crescent moon or the summer sun would not allow them to treat the earth as resource to be exploited. They had more respect for themselves than that.

They did not fear the power of the feminine moon. They did not fight to control the tides.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOON

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That “Something Bigger” [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Sun through chives. I found myself staring at this photo-prompt this morning. Normally I would catch a spark from the prompt and be off and writing. Not today.

My thought-void is not the fault of the photo-prompt. The exhaustion from the news of the day has caught up to me. It happens. There is nothing normal about deporting black and brown people who’ve fled violence and found a safe home in the USA. There is nothing normal about stripping people with disabilities the support that affords them a life at home and meaningful integration into society. I could go on and on. I wonder if we-the-people are even close to grokking how far we’ve descended in normalizing the violent rhetoric spewing from this administration? It is not only the rhetoric that is violent.

And so I stare.

Sun through chives.

When I am stuck I generally stir my pot by investigating symbology. When asking about symbolism, one is actually asking about a relationship between people and their “something bigger”. For instance, I just learned from the Old Farmer’s Almanac that, historically, bunches of chives were hung around homes and gardens to ward off evil spirits or negative energy. How did people from our past come to associate chives with protection from the likes of Stephen Miller? I’m contemplating sending a ton or two of chives to Washington D.C.

I also just read that in ancient times to the Chinese, chives were associated with spring festivals and represented vitality and the cyclical nature of life. Renewal. Purification. Roman soldiers ate chives because they believed chives could “conjure courage”. Do you suppose the republican congress would gnaw on chives if I sent them personalized bundles?

Now I’m contemplating sending chives to every corner of the nation, to every household. I’ll include a note: For courage and renewal. Place this between you and your television, wave it at your phone when watching the news of the day.

We would do well to revivify our relationship with our symbology. The Liberty Bell. The Eagle. The meaning sewn into the stars and stripes. E Pluribus Unum. The Statue of Liberty. The Declaration of Independence, after all, is much more than a document.

There is great power in the symbol of the simple chive. There is great power in every symbol if it still connects – in a real way – in a meaningful way – to that “something bigger”.

The sun through chives.

WATERSHED on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blog about CHIVES

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Extraordinary [David’s blog on KS Friday]

The morning sunrise sky was vivid mango. It rained overnight so as I stood in the cool morning air marveling at the color of dawn I also breathed deep the newly washed earth. Life is extraordinary.

Dogga was sick again this morning. We are doing what people do when they don’t want to admit that there is nothing to be done that will change what is inevitable. We are preparing ourselves for heartbreak. Life is extraordinary.

She brought the peace sign from her studio and placed it on the branch on our deck that now serves as a way-station for the finches and the sparrows. “Do you like it?” she asked. The symbol is made of glass and softly glows when the sun catches it. It is a symbol that almost everyone on earth understands. Language is not a barrier to understanding it. Culture is not a barrier to understanding it. Religion or politics cannot cloud its meaning. Common ground. A shared symbol is a shared aspiration. An impossible dream? An invocation? Life is extraordinary.

We do not miss an opportunity to say to each other, “I love you.” We’ve both walked life paths that made those words nearly impossible to utter. Scary. We’ve learned that they are not just words to be tossed away, an easy sentiment scribbled on a birthday card. They are fresh water to the garden. We do not speak those words lightly. We are careful to whisper them into Dogga’s ear each day.

Vivid mango sky. Side-by-side writing about reverence in the form of a shared symbol. She takes my hand in hers. Life is extraordinary.

PEACE on the album AS IT IS © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE

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Everyday, Everyday [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Sometimes it feels as if this great big old universe pops us on the head. It wants our attention. It wants us to hear its music beyond the noisy ruckus. This is one of those times.

Many months ago, late at night while Kerri was sleeping, I came across a video called, The Life We Have. I wasn’t paying too much attention and thought it was a hiking video so I clicked on it. I was not prepared for what I saw. At the end I had to stifle my sobs so I didn’t wake Kerri. So, when last week it popped up again in our feed, I told her she had to see it: Rob Shaver, living with stage four cancer for over 20 years, squeezing every ounce of gratitude he can from the life he has. His story is raw. His telling is pure. We both sobbed.

The next day L sent us a video of a man, a friend and teacher, speaking of orienting his life toward gratitude.

The next day D told us of his dedication to live from a place of generosity: generosity in thought, in action, in spirit.

The next day, while sitting in the backyard, seven vultures dropped from the clouds – seven – riding the thermals, spiraling low, just over our heads, and then circling higher and higher until they disappeared again into the clouds. It was gorgeous. Symbolically they represent purification and transformation. “I guess we’d better start paying attention,” I said.

In this past decade, ours has been a path of fire. Layers of dross and armor have been burned away. Bags of life-garbage have been reduced to cinders. We have no illusion that we are garbage-free but we are certain that the junk no longer dominates our view. We are not nearly as invested in murky grievances as once we might have been. We’re more and more clear-eyed in appreciating the moment we’re in and less and less interested in being anywhere else. More and more we hear the music in all things.

“The best thing you can do for your lungs is sing,” Rob Shaver said. This from a man who runs miles a day, a man whose lungs are filled with tumors. ‘”Everyday, everyday, everyday, everyday, everyday…be grateful for the life you have.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MUSIC

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Walk In Peace [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

I wanted to write about the day, long ago, that my Canadian friend questioned me about my country’s inability to deal with its black/white problem. His country does not have the history of slavery and Jim Crow that mine has. They have a different history of racial division. I was in Edmonton facilitating a diversity workshop and found that I had the most superficial of answer that amounted to “I don’t understand it either.”

I wish I was having that conversation with him now. I have a more complete grasp on my nation’s history. It’s not that we are incapable; it’s that we don’t want to. Our division is a strand of our national DNA. We’ve never settled the question, “Who do we mean when we say, We The People”? Right now, 26 years into the 21st century, one of our political parties is once again whitewashing our history while actively blaming people of color for our nation’s ills. The propaganda machine is working overtime to breath new life into the mad-mad-19th-century-notion of a master race. It continues to be profitable and manufactures dross easily swallowed for a populace largely ignorant of its history.

I wanted to write about my Canadian friend’s question but I found myself hoping that this latest loop around the racist velodrome would be the last. People who study change reassure me that significant growth follows a clear pattern: people revert before they progress, they step backward into the comfortable known, find it empty or ill-fitting, before stepping into the new. My nation is way overdo for a step forward.

I found myself staring at 20’s shoes. Converse Peace Signs. They were Kerri’s dad’s shoes and she gave them to 20 after her dad passed. Walking in peace. What would it take for us to embrace our diversity and flip our racism on its head? Diversity is, after all, in every situation in nature, a strength. Prosperity in all its forms is dependent upon rich diversity. Mono culture is death.

Photographer Angélica Dass believes our troubles stems from our “binary” color palette.* We’ve reduced each other to black and white. It inspired her to create a color wheel of humanity. Her project Humanae matches the full palette of beautiful human skin tones to their Pantone color. Her point (among many): race is a social construct. “Kids don’t describe themselves as black and white – we teach them black and white.”

We need not reduce each other. We need not exclude. We are capable of celebrating and supporting and appreciating. We are capable of embracing the science: there is no genetic or scientific basis for race. “It’s largely a made-up label, used to define and separate us.”*

I wanted to write about my Canadian friend’s question. I found myself staring at 20’s shoes. A symbol in black and white, an ideal beautiful and available to all the rich hues comprising humanity’s color wheel. A factual story capable of defining and uniting us.

*National Geographic, Special Issue: Black and White, April 2018

read Kerri’s blogpost about PEACE SHOES

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Hitched To Everything [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

If you are not paying attention you could walk right by them and never know that they are there. They are experts of stillness. They are masters of vanishing.

“Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.” ~ John Muir

We quietly hoped we’d see them. It was a special day and we desired an affirmation of all things good. The trail was both muddy and icy, hard to navigate. We were on the verge of turning back but decided to go just a bit further. Had we turned back we would not have seen them.

Our messengers from another world did not disappoint. They leapt, white tails flashing in the sun, making certain we did not miss them. And then they were still. Watching us watching them.

“I understood at a very early age that in nature, I felt everything I should feel in church but never did. Walking in the woods, I felt in touch with the universe and with the spirit of the universe.” ~ Alice Walker

They are teachers of presence. It is no wonder that they have come to symbolize spiritual renewal. In my stillness, in my presence, all the roiling troubles of the troubled-human-world dropped away. I think it is what John Muir meant: my spirit was washed clean.

“When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.” ~ John Muir

After they delivered their message and leapt toward the river, I recognized that what is accessible in the woods is also available in my studio. Presence. My brushes hitch me to everything else in the Universe. It is one reason why I am so extraordinarily lucky. If I do not go to nature to wash clean my spirit, nature comes to find me in my work.

read Kerri’s blogpost about DEER


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Under The Wet Moon [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Astrologically, we are in the sun sign of Aquarius. The water bearer. I was surprised to read that the corresponding moon cycle is known as the wet-moon, a reference drawn from Hawaiian mythology. This cycle “…corresponds with Kaelo the Water Bearer in Hawaiian astrology and makes the Moon known as the “dripping wet moon”.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that the zodiac of the west aligns so perfectly with the symbology of the Pacific Islanders. In Hindu astrology, “Aquarius is known as Kumbha Rāśi representing the symbol of the water pot.” The cultural traditions on Earth are drawn beneath the same constellations.

During the opening ceremony of the Olympics, a commentator referenced The Pale Blue Dot, a photograph taken of Earth in 1990 from the Voyager 1 space probe. “In the photograph, Earth’s apparent size is less than a pixel; the planet appears as a tiny dot against the vastness of space…” Incidentally, the photograph was taken on February 14 – according to the 12 month Julian calendar – a solar calendar created by humans on Earth, during the period of the wet-moon.

I suppose our definition of “belonging” depends on the parameters we choose. And, make no mistake, it is a choice. We can choose to identify ourselves according to divisions, something like the color line. We can choose to identify ourselves according to imaginary lines on a map. We can choose our tribes according to cultural differences.

Or, we can choose to identify ourselves according the unities. We can choose to recognize that we live under the same stars and orient to the same constellations. We can step back, deep into space, and look at ourselves, a dot no larger than a pixel. Our differences are not nearly so vast as our sameness. No amount of rhetoric or propaganda or white supremacy or religious extremism can alter the fact of our sameness.

The word February comes from februa, a Roman purification festival held during the period of the wet-moon. Under the wet-moon, athletes from all over the world, athletes representing 92 different cultures, 92 shapes drawn on a map of Earth but not visible anywhere from space, marched into a stadium in Milan, Italy, waving flags, symbols of their home nation. Their competition made possible only by the existence of others who also dream of gold, silver and bronze, a shared dream beneath the same constellation of stars.

It has all the makings of an ancient purification festival. And, just in time.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOON

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Hold Up The Light [David’s blog on KS Friday]

about this week: there is a peril, it seems, to writing ahead these days. we had decided that this week – the first full week of a new year – we wished to use images of light as our prompts, we wished to linger on the possibility of light, of hope, of goodness. though our blogposts might stray from that as we pen them, it was without constant nod to the constant updating of current events – a mass of indefensible, unconscionable acts. we pondered what to do about these blogposts we had written and decided to keep them. we hope that – whether or not any absence of the happenings of the day, whether or not the chance these written words seem somewhat inane at this moment – you might know that those events – of corruption, illegality, immorality, and now murder – do not distill or distort our intention – to bring light and hope to this new year – the first days of which bring more insanity and unnerving instability. we are still holding space for light.

I learned something new about the Statue of Liberty. There are broken chains and shackles at her feet. “Sculptor Frédéric-Auguste Bartholdi incorporated these elements to represent liberty breaking free from servitude, a powerful message about emancipation.”  (Statue of Liberty/Ellis Island Foundation) The name of the statue standing in NY Harbor is “Liberty Enlightening the World”.

We are witness to what happens when a nation, when a people, grow so accustomed to their symbols that they forget – or take for granted – their meaning. It’s times like these that the symbol is either reinvigorated or emptied.

Especially during the dark winter months, we light candles every evening. They are comforting, calming. If you asked me what they symbolize to me I’d answer, “Hope”. I used to meditate every day and I’d begin my meditation with lighting a candle: a beacon for concentration and connection. Peace. We light candles on days that significant people in our lives have passed. The flame is a call to memory, to gratitude and, again, connection.

Light that calls to us to peace. Light that evokes hope within us. Light that encourages us and connects us. Light that guides us home.

In the past I kept a candle burning in my studio while I was working. It was a companion or perhaps a signal to the muse that I was ready. Now I have a salt lamp that serves the same purpose.

Lady Liberty holds a torch. She has broken chains and shackles at her feet. Truly, it’s times like these that our symbol is either reinvigorated or reversed, made to mean the exact opposite of what it originally represented. Will it serve to evoke in us a call to create/defend freedom and justice for all or will we turn our backs on our symbol and allow it to descend into a curiosity, a bit of bygone americana. In this historical moment we have the choice of embodying the symbol as it was originally intended, holding up the light of liberty to guide ourselves through this dark night – or to flip it over, plunge the torch into the harbor and step willingly into the shackles of authoritarianism.

[I wrote this on the morning that the current occupant of the white house, without participation or knowledge of Congress, invaded Venezuela, a resource grab not unlike Putin’s unlawful invasion of Ukraine. I’m editing this on the morning after an ICE agent murdered Renee Good in Minneapolis. It seems we have arrived at our moment of choice: to fully embody our symbols and defend our dedication to freedom and justice for all – or not. This is not an abstraction. It is not hyperbole. It is immediate.]

HOPE on the album THIS SEASON © 2005 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE CANDLE

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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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If We So Choose [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

We had a debate about the painting on my easel that was so passionate, so intense, that Dogga thought we were having an argument and fled to the his safe-spot in the bathroom. We were startled out of our vehemence, laughed at ourselves and loved on him, reassuring him that all was right in the world.

We celebrate the return of the light. Depending upon the tradition, the celebration-of-light’s-return takes many forms and expresses through beautiful and unique rituals and symbols. The lighting of candles. The exchange of gifts. The sharing of a meal. If you think about it, each of these rituals, across all of the various traditions, are meant to bring us together. Light’s return is a symbol of hope, an annual call to the possibility of unity. Many paths, one mountain.

It is the time of year that we are for a moment capable of acknowledging the impact of our vehemence and actions upon others. It is the time of year that we at least pretend to desire peace on earth; it is the time that we sing songs of goodwill toward others. We ask it of our gods but know deep down that it is a wish that only we can grant if we so choose.

We first must choose it.

Our choices on this day? We will walk a snowy trail and revel in the quiet. We will come home, laugh at ourselves, share a meal and love on our Dogga, his unconditional love reassures us each-and-every-day that all is right in the world. Grateful, we will light our happy-lights, and crawl under a blanket.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BLANKETS AND SOCKS

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