thich nhat hahn | The Direction of Intention

Keeping Vigil [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on May 23, 2025 by davidrobinsoncreative

“I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.” ~ e.e. cummings

Our pals shared an adorable photo: their little granddaughter sits on a plastic chair waiting and watching for a single tulip to bloom. She is determined to hold her vigil until the flower opens.

It’s an adorable picture. Kerri sits on a plastic Adirondack chair waiting and watching to catch a photo of the black-capped chickadee emerge from the birdhouse. She is determined to hold her vigil until the tiny bird makes an appearance.

The birdhouse has been empty for years. We thought of it more as a backyard decoration than an actual residence for birds. We couldn’t believe it when we saw a chickadee squeeze through the hole and disappear. Soon long strands of grass hung over the doorway. The chickadee spouse stands guard. It forages and drops food into the house.

It is no small feat to see the world through the eyes of a child. The wonder of a tulip blooming. The astonishment of a chickadee nesting. I watch her watching and waiting, holding her breath with anticipation and I am full, full, full of gratitude that she has not blunted herself to the utter awe of this life. Reverence is so easy for a child, awash in firsts. It is much more difficult when the miracles seem known, ordinary, well worn, when we wrap ourselves in a blanket of been-there-done-that.

Why would we opt to live each day believing that we’ve seen it all before?

“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE BIRDHOUSE

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Filed under: Awakening, Gratitude, KS Friday | Tagged: artistry, bird watching, black cap chickadee, child's eyes, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, e.e. cummings, Gratitude, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, miracles, story, studio melange, the melange, thich nhat hahn, vigil | 2 Comments »

Arrive [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on May 3, 2024 by davidrobinsoncreative

“You must understand the whole of life, not just one part of it. That is why you must read, that is why you must look at the skies, why you must sing, dance and write poems, and suffer, and understand, for all that is life.” ~ Krishnamurti, Think On These Things

The amaryllis is making a reach for the sky. The first time I saw it – a bulb encased in pink wax – I wondered what alien life form just entered our house. We had to ask the same questions we’d need to ask if it was an alien creature: How do we take care of it? How do we feed it? The answer was simple. Leave it alone. That answer confirmed my suspicion. It was an alien after all!

There is so much in this life that I do not understand. In fact, if I am honest, I think most of this life is beyond my capacity to comprehend. Last night, not ready yet for sleep, I watched a nine-minute youtube teaching by Thich Nhat Hahn. Stop Running. The title caught my eye because so much of life feels like running. Running to explain, Running to justify. Running to judgment. Running from fear. Running toward gain. I wanted to hear some thoughts about standing still. In that way, I might understand why there is so much running. In the end, his answer was beautifully simple: rather than run, arrive. Be home.

Rob made us laugh. He’s one of several people who lately reminded Kerri and me that we are not normal. “I didn’t mean for that to sound like it did!” he exclaimed. He’s helping us sort out our plan B. It’s true. Our “normal” in comparison to others is alien like the amaryllis. Rob is attempting to help us see what is special about how we are doing life. And, like everyone, we are mostly blind to ourselves. To our unique choices. To our “one wild and precious life.”

Between the alien amaryllis growing in our sunroom, conversations with Rob and a brief teaching by Thich Nhat Hahn, I am fully confident that I need to cease all attempts at understanding anything at all. Maybe it is time to arrive. Maybe it is time to arrive, to stand still and fully breathe-in all the possible awe teeming in this mysterious ungraspable universe.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about AMARYLLIS

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Filed under: Awakening, Emergence, Identity, KS Friday, Metaphor, Possibility | Tagged: alien, amaryllis, arrive, artistry, awe, composer, connected, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, jiddu Krishnamurti, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, life, Mary Oliver, normal, not normal, possiblility, released from the heart, story, studio melange, the best so far, the melange, thich nhat hahn, think on these things, understanding, unique, universe | 2 Comments »

Touch The Liminal [on KS Friday]

Posted on February 3, 2023 by davidrobinsoncreative

I did not know the word columbarium: a room or building with niches for funeral urns to be stored. Each niche, a life. Or two.

Bruce just sent an article from The Atlantic, The Eerie Comfort of Liminal Spaces. The article helped me put my finger on the feeling I had the day we interred Beaky’s ashes. Row after row after row of niches. I was oddly comforted standing in the Florida sun between the rows at the columbarium. I felt ancient and that feeling surprised me.

Liminal spaces are threshold places. I turned my face to the sun and appreciated how, in this liminal space, all the trials and tribulations of life fell away. The divisions dissipate. Sisyphus sits in the boat in the underworld and watches all the souls wander on the beach, believing that they are all alone, until they play out all the worries in their minds. Once their stories are “told”, they see each other, gravitate toward each other, and join together, becoming a single bank of mist. From one form into an other.

In this resting place, I felt the essence of the threshold. The comfort of a liminal space. The rows and columns are for those of us on this side of the veil. On the other side, the need to seek or tell or feel is suspended.

I reached and wrapped my fingers in Kerri’s hand. It was glorious, this capacity to feel, so under-appreciated every day. Here, I knew without doubt that touch is the ultimate liminal experience. Thich Nhat Hahn offered a meditation I appreciate (I can’t recall the book) that begins, “Darling, I am here with you.”

That sums it up.

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about COLUMBARIUM

Filed under: KS Friday, Language, Love, Metaphor | Tagged: ancient, appreciation, artistry, columbarium, comfort, composer, david robinson, davidrobinsoncreative.com, division, Kerri Sherwood, kerri sherwood itunes, kerrianddavid.com, kerrisherwood.com, legacy from released from the heart, liminal spaces, meditations, musician, released from the heart, sisyphus, solo piano, story, studio melange, The Atlantic, the melange, thich nhat hahn, threshold, touch | 1 Comment »

Be With [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on October 19, 2022 by davidrobinsoncreative

“When you love someone, the best thing you can offer is your presence. How can you love if you are not there?” ~ Thich Nhat Hahn

We attended the funeral rites via Zoom. It was moving. Intimate. We felt grateful to be included.

Kerri attempted to keep the ukulele band going. There was a delay in the signal so the group played gloriously out of sync, our rehearsals a hysterical cacophony. In the end it didn’t matter because we met each week and shared stories. We asked the most important question: how are you doing?

We Zoomed with friends across the country. The screen between us punctuated the distance, exaggerated the separation.

The pandemic put a new twist on the word “presence.” How do we – how did we – remain present for each other, with each other, when distancing was one of the few routes available to slow the spread of the virus? We learned both the expanse and limits of technology, sometimes giving us communication but not always the capacity for presence.

It certainly made us more intentional. Presence required scheduling time. Presence required confronting the line of can-this-be-in-person-or-not. It made us slow down and question. In the early days of Covid, Kerri and I had a heated debate en route to Colorado to see my parents: do we wear masks or not? After a few moments the masks came off. We needed to be present. Fully.

“Presence” and “going slow” hold hands. One cannot walk without the other. A slow walk will invite presence. An intention to be more present invites slowing down.

When I returned from Bali I was different. Changed. I understood the necessity of going slow, of being in my life rather than racing through it.

The pandemic years have been equally as profound. Like everyone, we lost jobs, lost identities, lost connections, lost security. Every possible pattern of life was disrupted. Isolation brought a new level, a different understanding of going slow. A two-dimensional and three-dimensional understanding of presence.

We are emerging as different people. I feel it. I can see it. I cannot place words on how we are different. I simply know that we are not in such a hurry anymore. We are much more intentional. We draw deeper lines in the sand.

There are people we want to see. There are people we need to see, beyond a Zoom or a phone call. To sit in the same room, laugh. To hold hands. To go slow. To be “with.”

read Kerri’s blogpost about GOING SLOW