Appreciate The Break [on KS Friday]

Before we went to sleep last night we took Dogga to the car and sat in the air conditioning for half an hour. He needed a break from the heat and humidity. We needed it, too.

I’ve been working in the basement. It’s been so humid that my fingers stick to the track pad on my computer. On a Zoom call I was sharing a screen and Skip said-more-than-asked, “What are you doing!” I can be clumsy and inept without sticky fingers and sweat running into my eyes so it must have been a riot trying to follow my staccato presentation. And, let’s not talk about diminished brain function in heavy air and intense heat. My synapses fire in slow motion, if at all.

Sometime in the night the air cooled. We knew it was coming. Our conversations have been about holding on until Thursday night. “It’s going to break,” we promised each other. “It’s going to break,” we’d tell the dog.

On Monday, in the midst of yet-another-down pour, with water gushing up from the floor drains in the basement, ankle deep in water with shop vacs humming, running buckets of water up the stairs and out into the rain, Kerri stopped and said, “I think we’re handling this pretty well.”

It’s going to break. We are handling it pretty well. “Arranging the furniture in our mind,” as we read this morning, “to create a space of happiness.” Yes. Expect it. Create it. The water is up to our ankles so we might as well splash and have some fun.

Our wet humid world has exploded in tones of green. The grasses grow by the minute. The weeds, too.

That morning someday, full of hope in our expectation. Today, full of hope, because it is our expectation.

Sitting in the car last night, on “errands” to nowhere, the car idling, we were finally cool. DogDog walked slow circles in the back and then poked his head between the seats for a pet. “I’m not sure it gets any better than this,” I thought but did not say.

Sometime in the night, the air cooled. We knew it was coming.

That Morning Someday on Kerri’s album Blueprint For My Soul

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

read Kerri’s blog post on TALL GRASSES

that morning someday/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1997 kerri sherwood

Await The Whoooosh! [on KS Friday]

Although the genre-labels attached to her music, words like “new age” or “easy listening,” might lead you to believe otherwise, Kerri is not a gentle player of her piano. She doesn’t sit at it. She stands. Often, when she plays, the piano literally hops. This diminutive woman is a force of nature when she steps into her music. For her, playing is a full-body affair.

In this day and age of electronically generated music (and art), it’s hard to explain the love of the analog, the delight in full-body art-making. There is a flow – there is no other word for it – that is possible when using brushes and paint on large canvas or making music on keys that aren’t digitally supported. It becomes a dance. It requires opening, getting out of the way.

Early in our lives together we’d listen to her recordings, “Can you hear the whooosh?” she’d ask. “That’s the pedal! I love that sound!” she’d say. “Whooooosh! I don’t like playing on keyboards. There’s no whooosh.”

No whooosh. I’ve watched her play on keyboards – many times. You’d never know it but she has to hold herself back. If she let herself play, full-body-play, she’d knock the keyboard off its stand. She has to contain the force, water through a dam.

It’s anybody’s guess how she’ll play after her wrist recovers from the wet-floor-fall. There are still some months to go. In the meantime, the piano is calling. I know because she’s cleaning her studio. A studio cleanse is always the sign of an artist preparing for the next…Open space. A gathering storm. There’s only one thing I know for certain: on that day, when the pain is gone and she calls, “Come here and listen to this!” DogDog and I will go into the studio, find a safe place clear from potential piano hops, and we’ll take full-body delight in the return of the whoosh.

listen for the whooosh

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

read Kerri’s blog post about PEDALS

that morning someday/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1997 kerri sherwood

Inhabit Someday [on KS Friday]

that morning someday 1 copy

My life is nothing like what I imagined it would be. I had ideals and visions, hopes and dreams. Yet, here I am.

One day I awoke with the realization that I was spending an inordinate amount of my life wanting to be somewhere else, someone else, in a place I called “fulfillment.” In other words, I was giving away my day – my happiness – for an illusion. I spent that entire day paying attention to where I was. I didn’t have to try. I had to allow. You’ll not be surprised to learn that my day was extraordinary. An outside observer would have commented that nothing happened but they would have been…mistaken.

I painted for the pure pleasure of doing it. And breakfast (OMG)! I smelled coffee. I walked in the sun. I held my wife’s hand. I fixed again the perpetually broken handle on back door. I sat on the raft and wrote. I read aloud what I wrote (as we used to say, “tasting the words”). I laughed. We laughed. I played with dogga in the backyard. I listened as Kerri played the piano. She sang! We cooked dinner together. Sipped wine.

In fact, my day was much better than my imagined fulfillment because, well, it was actual fulfillment. True, I was not Leonardo Da Vinci, I had no Oscars on my shelf, and my financial situation was the stuff of comedy.  Yet, in fully inhabiting my actual moment, I was surprised at how little those other things mattered. As Quinn might say, my wall of respect had nothing on it and I couldn’t be more pleased.

My life is nothing like what I imagined it would be. It is so much better. That Morning Someday, I’ve learned, is nothing (quite literally nothing) if not today.

 

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY on the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL is available on iTunes

 

 

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that morning someday/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

That Morning Someday [On KS Friday]

A sunrise for your KS Friday from studio melange.

jacketblueprintjpeg copy 2I swear I knew this piece of music years before I met Kerri. I think I knew this piece years before she composed it. It is the soundtrack of a sunrise – and not just any sunrise. The Sunrise. Many years ago, on a California beach, wrapped in a blanket, after a night of revelry and playing in the surf with friends, I walked by myself toward the sunrise. I was utterly filled with peace, completely quiet inside. Content. It was a rare and precious moment and so distinct that it was forever burned into my memory. That morning changed me. I revisit that moment often. I revisit that sunrise when I need a touch of peace.

When I first listened to this track on Kerri’s album, Blueprint For My Soul,  my mouth dropped open. “I know this piece,” I said. “I know it.” She smiled, “It’s possible.”

Yes. Possible. That Morning Someday is like a sunrise. It is about the quiet entrance of vast possibilities. Take a moment on this KS Friday, and give yourself a rare and precious moment. Revisit your sunrise. And remember what peace feels like.

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY from the album BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL (TRACK 11 ) iTunes

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY also available on CDBaby

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY/RIGHT NOW products we designed are sold at society6.com

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read Kerri’s blog post about THAT MORNING SOMEDAY

www.kerrianddavid.com

that morning someday/blueprint for my soul ©️ 1997 kerri sherwood

that morning someday/right now product designs ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood