For The First Time [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

As I have previously written, probably ad nauseam, I am a fan of the mythic tale of Parzival (not the opera) mostly because I sometimes feel that I am living the story. Completely bungling the opportunity in the Grail Castle by doing what he was taught to do, feeling full responsibility for the ensuing wasteland, fighting every ogre in pursuit of redemption, his trusty secret weapon shatters in a crucial moment leaving him unprotected and vulnerable to death. Stripping off the armor – his “role” – he walks away grieving the full-realization of his folly. Now, completely lost he follows a hermit who has no answers…and in his lostness, no longer trying to be found, he finds himself for the first time. The Grail Castle returns; he enters to meet again the Grail King, this time without armor or title or role or status or expectation. Fully exposed.

We walked a beach that merely a year ago was rocky and secluded. In a miracle of modern machinery, in record time, the state covered the beach with tons of sand and built a protective breakwater. It is transformed. Now, much more friendly for families and safer for swimming, for boats and jetskis, it is popular and populated. We strolled it as if we’d been transported to another era. It was at one time the same beach and a wildly different place. It is beautiful and protected, its natural rocky state completely covered over with appearance. “No worries,” I thought, “time has a way of washing away the facade, revealing the truth of everything.” In the meantime, the joy-squeals of children racing into the water was a delight.

“Can you see the dinosaur?” she asked, showing me the picture of the tiny breaking wave.

“A Tyrannosaurus Rex!”

“Yes! Look at its tiny arms!” she said, laughing.

Our feet in the sand, lost in time, nowhere else we’d rather be.

“Surrender to what is. Say ‘yes’ to life – and see how life starts suddenly to start working for you rather than against you.” ~ Eckhart Tolle.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SHORE

like. share. support. subscribe. comment…thank you.

The Greatest Weapon [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The timing was uncanny. While on a slow walk in the park, deep in a conversation about our discouragement – no, our despair – for loved ones sucked down and seemingly lost in the dark, angry MAGA hole, we passed a group of girls engaged in an emphatic conversation and overheard the phrase, “I don’t know you like that!”

The phrase came like a slap. Kerri took out her phone to capture the slap in her notes. “That’s exactly it,” she said. “That’s precisely what is so troubling. It’s what I want to say: I don’t know you like that.”

I am lately haunted by the words of H.G. Wells: “Civilization is in a race between education and catastrophe. Let us learn the truth and spread it as far and wide as our circumstances allow. For the truth is the greatest weapon we have.”

There is a reason that the template outlined in Project 2025 includes the elimination of the Department of Education. There is a reason that governors in red states are (and have been) waging a war on education. Educated people ask questions. Educated people check the veracity of statements hurled their way. They take time to check facts and sources of information. In a democracy, an educated populace would never sign on with an autocrat exploiting their anger. They’d ask questions of their anger -and so would be impervious to exploitation. An educated populace would demand ideas from their leaders, respectful debate, reasonable compromise, adherence to the Constitution. They’d demand the same of themselves. An educated populace would see through the ugly name-calling and victim-squeals of a would-be dictator. An educated populace would pay no heed to the cries of “fake news” because they’d have learned to check it out for themselves. They’d hold news organizations to a higher standard. They’d care enough to question and verify information before jumping onto a hate-train. In fact (hear those two words) they would not so easily jump onto any train other than the truth-train because they were dedicated to living-in-facts that transcend bubble-gossip and tribal tittle-tattle.

This morning I had an HGTV revelation about our current political choice. It’s my latest metaphor illuminating the dangerous nonsense running around our nation in a red hat. I’ve learned in my HGTV viewing that demo-day feels good, takes very little time, very little thought, and requires only a sledgehammer. Anyone can do it. Destruction is easy. On the other hand, building the house is hard. It takes ideas, time, thought, planning, cooperation, collaboration, flexibility, knowledge, well-researched choices, skills, process and patience. Wisdom. All are the results of education.

Destruction is not complicated. It asks no questions, requires no learning. Destruction is the center of the red hat campaign.

Creating something beautiful and long-lasting is hard. It takes skill, the capacity to question and learn from mistakes. It takes a plan, forward thinking, and complex considerations, not fantasies sought in the rearview mirror of some imagined sitcom past. And it is never done. Building a better house is the center of the blue team’s campaign.

The red hat and company certainly espouse a plan, Project 2025, but an educated person would only need to ask the authors of the plan a pair of questions before rejecting it outright: 1) Why would you tear down the shining-city-on-the-hill and replace it with a dark prison? 2) Why are you trying to hide your plan from voters?

People I love, those caught in the undertow of the red swirl, empty of fact but full of shared-victim-anger, gulping and then spewing mouthfuls of toxic-fox-swill, waving their flags, raging with a dedicated ignor-ance…I don’t know them like that. I wonder how they came to know themselves like that.

Let us learn the truth and spread it as far and wide as our circumstances allow. For the truth is the greatest weapon we have.”

Let us learn about truth: Truth is not what we hear or see in the stream. It is not something verified by people passing memes around our social bubbles or validated because we share the same opinion and invest in the same misinformation sources that cater to our opinions. Truth is what we find when we question what we hear. It is verified by exiting our bubbles and questioning what we think we know, examining the foundation of our likemindedness. Truth is learned when we fact-check our own opinions and especially challenge our rigidly held beliefs. Rigidity is a red flag, a marker that something false is hiding.

I have learned to remember this: an opinion shared with great passion or rage is still just that – an opinion. Any strong belief held without question or reflection is, in fact, weak and makes us easily exploited, easily led. Lemmings. Fools. Learning the truth requires constant effort and personal responsibility – especially in our age of easy misinformation. In learning truth, our greatest weapon, there is never a need to fill the communal cup with fear-mongering. Truth dispels fear. It dissipates gossip, and, because it demands personal responsibility, affords no room for blame.

Truth is a common center. Education, the art of questioning and discernment, is the compass that gets us there.

read Kerri’s blogpost about I DON’T KNOW YOU LIKE THAT

like. share. comment. subscribe. support…thank you.

The Essentials [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The interviewer asked me to name three things I love and three things that piss me off. “Ah, here’s the trick question,” I thought. Tom Mck once told me that, when conducting interviews for teaching positions, he’d ask a trick question, “Tell me about your experiences with a bad student?” If the interviewee answered the question, he would not hire them. “There is no such thing as a bad student,” he said. I knew better than to answer the interviewer’s question but I did anyway: “I can’t see my dad anymore and sometimes that really pisses me off.” Of course, I did not get the job.

I read The Little Prince, first to myself and then aloud to Kerri. As I turned the last page I saw that she was silently crying. “I forgot how it ended,” she said. So had I. In the book, after the Little Prince is bitten by the yellow snake and dies, the narrator searches the sand but cannot find his body. The author, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, a year after he wrote the book, crashed his plane over the Mediterranean Sea. It was 1944. His plane was later found but not his body.

Neil Postman wrote Amusing Ourselves to Death in 1985. It is more relevant today than when it was written. He predicted our indifference to lies. It’s not that we cannot discern fact from fiction, it is that we do not care to. It’s much more entertaining to spew self-righteous bile and shared discord within the confines of the social-bubble. A free press, the mechanism meant to function as society’s lie-detector, has collapsed and become a terrific magnifier of falsehood. Entertainment. That which can be seen with the eyes but is nowhere detectable with the heart. Wild lies, outrageous claims and blame, blame, blame, blame, blame are much more captivating than essential truth. It’s about numbers: grotesque behavior attracts more audience than genuine discourse so completely dominates the info-stream.

The body politic fragments, like pieces of an airplane tumbling from the sky.

Lately, I hear often – and speak – this common refrain: “I just can’t understand how people don’t see it.”

“Oh, people do see it,” whispers The Little Prince, sweeping clean his volcano, adding, “With their eyes.”. He winks, “Closed hearts are not concerned with the essentials.”

The wind shifted so we sat outside and enjoyed the evening cool after a hot day. Just like my dad used to do. Now, when I close my eyes, I can see him. We made dinner with 20 and ate under the waning light in the sky. It was the solstice. The stars made their slow entrance. Gazing up, I wondered if perhaps Antoine de Saint-Exupery found a way to join The Little Prince on his planet so together they might attend to the vanity of the rose. I hope so. For a moment, we sat in silence and appreciated all that our open hearts could see.

read Kerri’s blogpost about SEEING CLEARLY

like. share. subscribe. comment. support. thank you.

Beautiful And Prickly [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Thriving in an unlikely and inhospitable place, this thistle served as a sign, a testimony to possibility, the rugged beauty available only through dogged perseverance. Stretching up through a tiny crack in a busy sidewalk outside aging buildings in a bustling city, these thistles stood nearly five feet tall. Their colorful flowering heads brought us to a full stop. We set down our knitted-brows and absorbed their vibrant pink and purple stick-to-it-ed-ness. “Gorgeous,” she said, reaching for her camera.

More than beauty-through-resilience, these hardy thistles spoke to me with the veracity of an oracle. As I watched Kerri take photographs, the oracle whispered in my ear “Both beautiful and prickly,” she said, “Her prickles protect her against herbivores and others.”

“Ahhh,” I sighed. A well-rounded plant, indeed. No shrinking violet could possibly survive in this environment, let alone thrive. Bloom.

For a moment I stood watching the passers-by. Few took notice of the gorgeous thistles. Some scurry-ers glanced sideways at Kerri cooing and snapping photos of what, I imagine, they thought of as weeds for someone else to pull. No time for beauty. No time for responsibility. On-to-the-next.

“I’ll bet those people think I’m crazy,” she said, tucking her camera inside her purse.

“Yep,” I agreed. “You are definitely more like the thistle than you are to the people passing-by.” She gave me a sideways glance but decided to accept the compliment.

I winked and whispered to the thistle-oracle. “All the time in the world for beauty. All the time in the world for responsibility. Nowhere else more important to be.” Beautiful and prickly. Resilient to the core.

Divine Intervention/Released From The Heart © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s music is available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THISTLES

like. share. subscribe. comment. support. thank you.

Look-At-Me-Look-At-You [David’s blog on KS Friday]

It struck me that as the crowd gathered to watch the family of foxes, the foxes, in turn, gathered to observe the rabble of humans. Look-at-me-look-at-you. I wondered if they thought of us as wild, uncultivated. I know they were delighted that a makeshift fence stood between us and them.

The mother fox leapt onto a stone and seemed to pose for photographs but I was certain she was drawing attention away from her brood. Look-at-me-not-at-them. She knew how to make her frolicking children disappear. And they did. Once safe, she stepped off her platform, no rush, and also disappeared.

A local woman walking her dog saw the crowd and asked, “Is it the foxes?” I nodded. “Thought so,” she said and nonchalantly continued on her way. A family of foxes in the center of town. Nothing new. For her it happens every day. For us, passers-through, it was a surprise. A delight. A family of foxes have never rollicked on our street at home. I may never see this again. She will see it again on her stroll tomorrow, just like yesterday. Thus, the power of perspective.

I read that foxes are observers. They easily meld into their surroundings. They vanish so they can watch. So they can see. “If Fox has chosen to share its medicine with you, it is a sign that you are to become like the wind, which is unseen yet is able to weave into and through any location or situation. You would be wise to observe the acts of others rather than their words at this time.”

Tom Mck told me that as he aged he felt that he grew invisible. I feel much the same way these days though my encounter with the foxes has made me realize that I have mostly lived my life as an observer of others. Like the wind. I much preferred coaching people over the phone: I could listen purely – no negotiating of image – and easily hear the message behind the words. Perhaps I have not grown invisible but am only now fully realizing the truth of one of my gifts. Weaving through any location or situation: Look-at-me-look-at-you.

Every Breath/As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FOXES

share. like. subscribe. comment. support. many thanks.

Beyond Words [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

“Truth, like time itself, is a product of a conversation man has with himself about and through the techniques of communication he has invented.” ~ Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves To Death

I’ve felt for months the need to apologize to J. We were having a conversation about truth – and notions of god – and in his current place-on-the-path he’s necessarily seeking absolutes. For him, relative truth smacks of falsehood or some loosey-goosey scary philosophy. He’s looking for a hard rock on which to build his house of wisdom. I was flip rather than helpful. How do you begin to discuss truth as a cultural orientation or a fluid marker that changes with time? When I was J’s age, truth could be established with a photograph. Not so anymore.

Breck, our little quaking aspen tree has come to represent a form of truth for me. Breck almost didn’t make it. We brought her home from the high mountains of Colorado and for a few years she lived and struggled in a big pot. She barely survived the first place we planted her. It was not a good location so we moved her to different soil where she’d enjoy more sun. And now she is flourishing. Last year she grew more than three feet taller.

Breck’s truth/health has very little to do with hard answers to abstract questions. For her – and me – truth is found in relationships; her environment. The right spot. Good soil. Rejuvenating sun. She brings an impulse to life: perseverance. Tenacity. Adaptability. We love her and I believe she “knows” that, too. Love is a truth that knows no absolute. I couldn’t explain that to J because I was playing with him, bringing levity to his seriousness.

And, in truth (what other word can I use?), I have become a doubter that any serious conversation about truth or gods can happen through something so limited as language. That’s what I should have expressed to J. I should have taken him outside to see the stars.

Now, when I want to have those conversations with myself, when I am seeking a better question, I walk on the trail next to the river. I turn my face to the sun. I try to detach myself from the clocks and lists and tv debates. I look at Breck quaking in the wind. I await each spring for the buds to appear on her limbs. There’s truth-beyond-words in her life-cycle, the return of her leaves and her captivating shimmer dance with the breezes.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK

share. like. subscribe. comment. support. thanks!

Where It Ends [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Today is the day when hoaxsters and jokesters and pranksters abound. It’s the unofficial-official national day of the trickster.

Historically on this day it’s best to doubt everything that you are told, to check the sources of your information. To join in the joking and let off some steam with a bit of harmless mischief.

It’s much harder in this day-and-age since everyday is April fools day! The mischief is not harmless. With so many dedicated conspiracy theorists running amok, shysters selling bibles, serial liars celebrated, vapid minds taken seriously, it’s difficult to tell where the fool’s day begins and where it ends. It’s tough to know where the fools begin and where they end.

So, on this day as on all others, it’s a best practice to doubt everything that you are told [as a rule of thumb, it’s not a bad practice everyday to doubt everything that you think!], to religiously check the sources of your information and to check the sources of information promoted as religious.

Fools and tricksters are meant to make us open our eyes; to step back and take ourselves less seriously. To help us discern between the sacred and the profane. They are meant to shock the system when the system begins to believe that it’s “all that.” They are meant to help us laugh at ourselves.

Play safe out there. Have fun. It is my deepest wish that we might lighten up ever so slightly and learn to chuckle at our foibles. I know, I know…pie in the sky. First we must learn to distinguish between a foible and a strength, a truth and a lie, a joke and a virtue, an ignoramus and a learner, propaganda and news.

Until then, we are all destined to be April’s fools.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOOLS

[Christopher Wool’s painting, Fool, at the Milwaukee Art Museum]

like. share. subscribe. support. comment. we thank you.

Pull The Thorns [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Matthew and Rumi agree: “You hypocrite! First take the beam out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

 The Buddha is purported to have said: “The faults of others are easier to see than one’s own.”

The message is ubiquitous. The teaching is universal. If you wish to wander in the fields of flowers, pull the thorns from your heart. And, like all simple truths, it’s easier said than done.

History is riddled with the greatest persecutors loudly proclaiming themselves victims. It’s a pattern. Sometimes the odor of hypocrisy is faint. Sometimes it stinks to high heaven. Currently, we are watching this age old drama play out on our political stage. No-self-awareness. Not-an-iota-of-personal-responsibility.

It’s worthy of Aeschylus. It’s a theme that runs through the greatest works of Shakespeare. Othello. Hamlet. MacBeth. Lear. Tortured thorny hearts with split intentions. It’s ever-present because it’s a bear-topic that every human has wrangled. Psychologists call it “projection.”

There is no path to inner peace that does not begin with dedicated self-reflection, self-revelation, and a subsequent healthy course of eye-beam-removal. A good honest look at the thorns carried within the heart before the plucking. What’s true of an individual is also true of a community.

And, if we are lucky and brave and honest, “…at length, truth will out.” A good test of truth is the flood of peace that ensues. A wander through the fields of flowers.

read Kerri’s blogpost about PULLING THORNS

like. share. subscribe. support. comment. thank you.

A New Day [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

A new day.

Sometimes it takes a storm blowing through to make you realize what has value and what does not. The tornado takes the house, scatters the possessions, but the family is safe. No one is harmed. The wind takes the clutter and leaves a certain clarity.

I once knew an accomplished artist who lost his life’s work in a house fire. What I assumed would be tragic, for him was an opportunity: “I’m alive,” he said, elated. “Now I have a completely clean slate and can discover my work all over again.”

The storm comes. The veil falls. The Great and Powerful Oz is nothing more than a man with levers and illusions of grandeur hiding his real face behind a curtain. Dorothy suddenly knows without doubt what is true and what is fabrication. It’s quietly liberating.

She watches The Great and Powerful drift away in his hot air balloon and clumsy illusion. Dorothy realizes that no one can give her what she already possesses, an integrity of purpose, a vibrant spirit, surrounded by honest people who love her in a place she calls “home.”

A new day.

Nap with DogDog & BabyCat, 36″x48″, mixed media

read Kerri’s blogpost about A NEW DAY

share. support. subscribe. like. comment. thank you.

Trouble Maker [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.” ~ Pearl S. Buck

“What did you take a picture of?” he said enthusiastically, crossing our path on the trail!

“The cattails,” she answered, showing the stranger her photograph. “They’re glowing!”

“Ah! You’re seeing! Most people walk these trails to get through them. Very few people are curious enough to learn. It’s only when you see that you can learn. It’s only when you learn that you can see!”

His name was George. I couldn’t place his accent. We guessed his age to be near 80 though he was more spry and alive than people half his age. Pulling up his AllTrails app, he shared stories of the local trails that he’d walked. “This one is gorgeous!” he exclaimed.

As we parted he turned and shouted, “Remember, you’ll never get in trouble if you are learning! Only ignorance will get you into trouble!”

And odd parting sentiment. An apt parting sentiment for our times. I wondered if we just had a happy visitation from a wizard. A forest sprite. A wise hermit.

For the rest of our walk I thought about his parting sentiment. Trouble. John Lewis said, “Get in good trouble.” There is a kind of trouble that only comes when you see – when you learn. Artists and academics, seekers of truth, are problematic for authoritarians and bullies. Seeing – truth – learning – is problematic for purveyors of lies and promoters of ignorance. John Lewis got into plenty of good trouble in his life and our lives are better for it.

Kerri and I both have been branded “troublemakers” at various points in our lives. We are too sensitive, some have said,”… too sensitive for our own good.” We have artist natures. As premises go, George’s parting comment is accurate: ignorance always leads to a whole bunch of trouble. Ignorance is loud and, these days, wears a red hat.

It is equally as accurate that learning, calling out ignorance, speaking quiet truth, brings its own brand of trouble. Good trouble. The kind of trouble that actually makes people’s lives better.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TROUBLEMAKER

like. share. comment. support. many thanks.