Grow More Beautiful [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Barney copy

Barney is growing more beautiful with each passing year. New colors emerge. His wood splinters and new patterns play across his keys. The laminate that once served as skin is loose, wrinkled and twisting.

He was once forgotten.  Years ago, someone thought it was a good idea to store him next to the boiler in the basement of the church. He sat in the dark for decades. He provided a surface for loose tools. He stood in water more than once; the basement floods and the boiler breaks. Over time his soundboard was ruined. He was no longer useful according to his original purpose.

He was rediscovered. He was rolled into the light. It was determined that he was too broken to be fixed and he was scheduled to be taken away by the scrap man. It took some convincing but we talked the scrap man into bringing Barney to our house. He helped us roll Barney across the grass. He helped us lift him into his resting place.

Barney has been a fixture in our backyard for the past 4 years. Kerri played him on his first day here and he sounded pretty good. The next day his sound collapsed, his keys stuck; he let us know his time for giving voice was over. He is content in his silence.

Now, he rests. He weathers. He drinks in the sun and the snow and rain as the years cycle through. The plants grow up around him as he slowly sinks into them. We watch and note his changes, the pieces falling off, the chipmunks who live beneath his lid. The purples and ochres and deep rich blues that were hiding beneath the laminate have surfaced. The changing weather, the long road of his life, has teased them to the top.

He quite simply grows more and more beautiful. We think that was his purpose all along.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about BARNEY

 

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Take Another Step [on KS Friday]

in transition song box copy

In the past year I’ve been reading books a few pages at a time. Some days I only read a few paragraphs at a time. I’m not reading to get through a book. I’m reading to ponder. It’s become a form of reading meditation.

A few weeks ago, I began a slow read of my own book, The Seer. I published it nearly five years ago and immediately abandoned it. Today I read this: change never comes from the direction of what you know. It is a prerequisite of learning, growth and change to step away from what is known, from what is comfortable. From what feels safe. Learning and change are always in the direction of the unknown.

Kerri’s IN TRANSITION is a musical mantra for stepping into the unknown. As is true of all transitions, it is a yearning in two directions. Yearning for what was. Yearning for what will be. But more than yearning, it is a river of determination. Take another step. And another. And another. Discover.

If you are in transition, as we are, stand still for a moment and listen to the yearning, steep yourself in the simple encouragement of IN TRANSITION.

 

IN TRANSITION on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART available on iTunes & CDBaby. The physical CD is available here.

 

if you'd like to see kerri sherwood.. copy 2

read Kerri’s blog post about IN TRANSITION

 

www.kerrianddavid.com

 

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in transition/released from the heart ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

Make No Sense

Untiltled Narrative by David Robinson

Untiltled Narrative by David Robinson

The cliché: life is a cycle. Order begets chaos and chaos begets order. Both are necessary. Just as spring is not possible without winter, order without chaos makes for only half a life. Safety without uncertainty makes for only half a life and a very boring life story.

Ann passed away last night. Her battle with cancer was long and nothing short of heroic. Kerri said, “She was such a bright light! Damn cancer. This makes no sense.” Too true.

Last night, John came back into our lives. We sat for hours talking of the events and changes of the lost years. He told us of the necessity to finally stop trying “to make things work” and how he stepped into the discomfort of uncertainty. Now, standing solidly in his uncertainty, he feels both lost and found. That is a great description of how change feels. We got the news of Ann’s death while John was visiting. We had a glass of wine and made a toast to her life. And then we made a toast to appreciating life in all of its textures. John said, “At the end of the day, all that really matters is a bottle of wine to share with friends.” Too true.

More clichés: rejuvenation necessarily begins in the province of disorder and the unknown. The journey back to self winds through miles and miles of uncharted territory.

Each journey is made beautiful by the monsters and masters we meet along the way. Both are teachers. Both bring gifts and force changes of direction. The Cyclops is as necessary as the sage and both serve new sight and the refocusing of the eye. Both are necessary to strip away our resistance to the cycles, to peel away the protective layers we pile on to life that obscures what truly matters.

title_pageGo here to buy hard copies (and Kindle) of my latest book: The Seer: The Mind of the Entrepreneur, Artist, Visionary, Innovator, Seeker, Learner, Leader, Creator,…You.

Yoga.MeditationGo here for Fine Art Prints of my paintings

Seek The Open Door

723. Join me in inspiring truly powerful people. Each day I will add a new thought, story or idea to support your quest and mine.

Era’s begin and era’s end. Sometimes the line marking the end is distinct and sometimes you simply discover that a chapter closed. The early phase of a new chapter always feels like being lost. Feeling lost is a certain sign that a new chapter has opened.

When dealing in story you learn that beginnings, middles, and ends are arbitrary designations because they are not linear. Stories are cyclical. At what moment did the infant become a toddler? At what moment does vitality become contentment: when does becoming transition into being? When do we cross into old age?

Once, many years ago, while watching a rehearsal, an era ended. I was the artistic director of a company that I’d nurtured and grown for years. I was directing a play and it was a few weeks before opening; in that rehearsal, in a single moment the door closed, I knew I was done. I knew I needed to leave. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done to finish that rehearsal process and open that play. I had to work very hard to treat the people around me with kindness. I did not know how to leave the people I loved. I did not know how to leave so tried hard to push them away. They knew. Sherry came into my office, sat down, took my hand and told me that it was okay if I needed to go. She assured me that everyone would be fine. Sherry knew the truth: once you are done, it is soul crushing to pretend otherwise and she was looking after the health of my soul. “Take the step,” she said. “You can’t receive a call and not follow it.” A door closing is a calling. It is guidance that says, “Not this way. Look for a door that opens.”

Throughout the fall and winter I have closed the door on an era. And, just when I think the door is fully closed, there is another closure, a further completion (how’s that for a paradox!). It can only mean that another era has begun. Today, I pull closed another door, turn and look to the horizon and wonder in which direction to step. As new doors open the horizon tends to be 360 degrees; limitless possibility and lost-ness often feel the same. I’ve decided that it is not necessary to know which way to step. It is only necessary to step. It is only necessary to listen to the guidance and like a treasure hunt seek the open door.