Eat And Wait [on KS Friday]

“Neither the hummingbird nor the flower wonders how beautiful it is.” ~ unknown

Jay, Gay, and Kerri are waiting. They are watching for the return of the hummingbirds. The anticipation is palpable. Each day I come upon Kerri, staring out the kitchen window at the untouched feeder. She turns, and, mimicking a voice-over from a commercial for the television show, Wicked Tuna, she asks “WhehAuhThey?” I shrug. She returns to her watch.

A line from a book flashed into my mind. “I can think. I can wait. I can fast.” Siddhartha replies to the beautiful Kamala when she asks what he can do. Hold on! Waiting is a marketable skill! Of course!

Inside my mind, I practice my answer in an imaginary job interview: “Now, tell me, Mr. Robinson, what are your most valuable skills?”

“I can think. I can wait.” I say to the too-serious-HR manager. Note how I cleverly omitted the part about fasting. As a rule I’m hungry all of the time. I want to create the illusion of value without having to outright lie. If I don’t eat, I can’t think. Period. And, if I can’t think, waiting-to-eat is virtually impossible. Just ask Kerri about that day in Minturn, Colorado. It was almost ugly. I have a long way to go before I add fasting to my short list of valuable skills.

In my mind I don’t get a second interview. “We want someone who can fast,” the too-serious-HR manager smiles thinly.

“I’m certain I can work on my delayed gratification skills,” I say as I’m escorted to the door. Wow. Another lie. I’ve been working on delayed gratification for a lifetime and have made very little progress. “I didn’t want that job anyway!” I declare as I stumble onto the noisy street-in-my-mind.

All of this fantasy lying to myself has made me hungry. “Do you want to eat something?” I ask Kerri who’s keeping her hummingbird vigil. “I’m starving.”

“Yes,” she says. “When do you think they’ll get here?” she asks, suddenly becoming a 5 year old. “How will they find us?”

“They’ll be here soon,” I say, perhaps telling another fib. I have no idea when they will be here. “All we can do is wait,” I offer, quickly adding, “So, what do you want to eat while we wait?”

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

read Kerri’s blogpost about HUMMINGBIRDS

waiting/joy! a christmas album © 1998 kerri sherwood

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Play [on DR Thursday]

“Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.” ~ Rainier Maria Rilke

The poet would have us understand this: our dragons are waiting to see us. They do not transform once we are beautiful and brave. Dragons do not suddenly appear as princesses. No, we transform. What we see changes. Through beautiful and brave eyes, princesses no longer appear as dragons.

Waiting to be seen. Waiting to see. I think Rilke knows that we are all beautiful and brave but are convinced otherwise. So, we hide. Or pretend. We don armor. The view from inside a tank is not as clear or expansive as the view from the outside. The poet would have us feel safe enough to open the hatch and step outside. It is there, in the expansive outside, that dragons facades fall away revealing princesses.

Another poet, Rumi, wrote, “Live as if everything is rigged in your favor.” Even before you see them as princesses, know that the dragons are on your team. That’s why they are waiting to see us as we are. Knowing the game is rigged in our favor is the surest path to seeing them as they are.

We decided to take a day away from the grindstone. We lifted our noses from the stone and took a drive to a small town. There was a specific shop in the tiny town that we wanted to visit. We drove back roads and successfully lost all sense of time and direction.

Instead of the warm day we’d hoped for, it was cold and rainy. Our fingertips ached and the ends of our noses were crimson so rather than wander the streets as we planned, we spent our time inside, imagining outrageous purchases and talking with shopkeepers. In those shops, laughing with those warm-hearted-people, our dragons fell from our sight.

We remembered: beautiful and brave are qualities of playfulness. To be seen, to see the dragons transform, play. The poet would have us play! Why wait?

The town was alive with sparkling light. Colorful picnic tables, undaunted by the rain, waited patiently for warmer times. We played and everything tilted in our favor.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COLORFUL TABLES

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

a dragon’s tale illustration © david robinson

waiting/joy! a christmas album © 1998 kerri sherwood

Why Wait? [on DR Thursday]

they wait copy

they wait, mixed media,  24 x 18IN

“Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave.” ~Rainier Maria Rilke

And, so, we wait. We sit in our homes for the benefit of all. I’ve heard from my pals that time has seemed to warp, twist, and fade. Routines are broken. Patterns scattered in the new necessity. It begs the question, as we wander from room to room, where can we go if cannot go from here?
I’m fond of a thought from Eckhart Tolle: Presence is when you are no longer waiting for the next moment, believing that the next moment will be more fulfilling than this one.
In our daily walks, we often end up in the cemetery at the end of the street. It is the only place we can go and not cross paths with other people. Cemeteries are good for perspective. There are birth dates and death dates and nothing in between. Whole lives lived, loves lost and found, fortunes made and lost.  ‘Imagine all the crap this person worried about that didn’t really matter,” I say. Kerri nods. I imagine each and every one of these souls would give anything – anything for a single moment of precious life. Any moment would do, but I suspect they’d want back all of those moments that they branded as “waiting.” Moments wanting to be somewhere else and completely missing what was right before them, rich and beautiful.
Presence is one of those easily abstracted and often misunderstood experiences. It can be found in the drawer labeled ‘spiritual things.’ It is loaded with paradox. One cannot strive for presence. Striving for presence is the ultimate oxymoron. Presence is actually very practical. Stop striving to be elsewhere. That’s it. Simple. Yet, that is what makes it so hard to embody. It requires a bit of surrender.
And, so, in this time of pandemic, we wait. We sit in our homes for the benefit of all. Time twists. Assumptions turn to dust. Tomorrow cannot be planned. We writhe for entertainment, places to go. We grouse for something to fulfill us, distract us. We make up things to fill time.
Strolling through the cemetery, I ask myself, “How much of my life am I willing to give away to waiting?”

feet on the street WI website box copy

they wait ©️ 2018 david robinson

Call It Something Else [on KS Friday]

waiting eighth rest copy

“Waiting is hard,” said the rabbit. Thump, thump, thump.

“Why is it hard?” asked the bear.

“BECAUSE!! the rabbit screeched.

“Oh.” said the bear, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s there and I’m here and when it’s here I will be, too, but it’s not here and I am!!” rabbit huffed. “And that is HARD!” ‘Bears can be soooo slow,’ rabbit thought but did not say.

Thump, thump, thump.

“So, you’re here.” bear said, sorting it out.

‘Yes.” grumbled the rabbit.

“And, it is not here.”

Thump, thump. Rabbit rolled his eyes.

“Is it waiting for you, too?” bear asked, concerned.

“I DON’T KNOW!!! rabbit shouted. “How could I possibly KNOW that? I’m HERE and IT IS NOT!”

“Oh. Well. Hmmm. Maybe we should DO something while you wait,” offered the bear. “We could find a good scratching tree! We could roll in mud!”

Rabbit squeezed closed his eyes, “That would defeat the WHOLE POINT!”

“Oh,” puzzled the bear. “The point is to make it hard?”

Rabbit rubbed his ears in exasperation, “It wouldn’t be called WAITING if it wasn’t HARD!”

Bear thought for a moment. “What if we called it something else? What if we called it PLAYING? Would it be less hard if we called it playing? What if we called it NAPPING?” Bear ambled to a sunny spot and settled in. “I like napping!”

Thump, thump, Thump. Bears could be sooooooooo slow.

 

WAITING on the album JOY! A CHRISTMAS ALBUM is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WAITING

 

savannah selfie WEBSITE BOX copy

 

waiting/joy! a christmas album ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Wait [on KS Friday]

waitingsongbox copy

Here in the northern hemisphere, these are the dark days. It is cold. We go inside (literally) for warmth and we go inside (metaphorically) for reflection. We wait. We look toward the solstice. We have faith in the light’s return.

The return of the light. In the sweep of the cycle of the seasons there is a time for waiting. A time to stop all pursuit. A time to pull the cloak tighter, to conserve. To hibernate. To light candles and fires. To sit with friends and make soup. To appreciate. To warm the core.

Rest and appreciation go hand in hand. After the harvest and after the festival it is appropriate to stop, to let the deeper work happen. To rejuvenate the root.

Reflection IS movement. Rejuvenation IS growth. It is necessary. It is beautiful. It happens slowly in the dark. And, as Kerri’s quiet composition suggests, it feels like hope, like WAITING.

 

WAITING on JOY! A CHRISTMAS ALBUM is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WAITING

 

ks website header copy

 

k&dbw backs website box_ copy

 

waiting/joy! a christmas album ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

Wait And Know [on DR Thursday]

Yoga-Waiting and Knowing sharpened copy 2

Flying above the island in his tiny airplane, Bruce told me about the natural water level cycles in Lake Michigan. They are extreme and run on a more-or-less 27 year rotation. “Everything in nature balances,” he said. “It’s what nature does.”

Balance. This painting, Knowing and Waiting, is about nature, human nature, and just like everything else in nature, we too, have an innate propensity to sort to the balance point. And, often, finding balance takes time.

The words are derived from Carlos Castaneda: you must wait patiently, knowing that you’re waiting, and knowing what you’re waiting for.

 

read Kerri’s blog post about KNOWING AND WAITING

 

 

Yoga-Waiting and Knowing sharpened copy 2

knowing and waiting, mixed media, 48 x 48

 

 

arches shadows k&d website box copy

 

waiting and knowing ©️ 2015 david robinson

 

 

Wait Here [on KS Friday]

waiting song box copy

Last night when we came out of rehearsal it was snowing, just barely. There is something immediately meditative about a gentle snowfall. We stopped and stood for a moment watching the flakes flutter like tiny feathers to the ground.

Sometimes snow stops time. Or, better, it interrupts the rush through life and drops us into time. It drops us into the present moment. No other place to be.  Nothing more important to do.

Kerri’s WAITING has the same power as a gentle snowfall. It calms the rush and quiets the noise. It opens the door into this moment, the present moment, and asks nothing more from you than be witness to the stillness, the silent emergence of those tiny flakes traveling through infinite space to the place on earth where, at just the right moment, you happen to be standing. Just in time.

 

WAITING on the album JOY – A CHRISTMAS ALBUM is available on iTunes & CDBaby

 

 

 

 

read Kerri’s blog post about WAITING

 

bong trail, wisconsin website box copy

 

waiting/joy-a christmas album ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

ks designs/products ©️ 2018 kerri sherwood & david robinson