reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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the starting line of next. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“it’s everything behind you that brings you to what’s ahead.” (visa commercial during the olympics)

in depicting the miscellany of experiences that makes up a life, we all would need large pieces of poster board placed side by side by side by side to create some sort of visual timeline, something that might represent life-to-this-point.

we would all have great paragraphs of explanation, large narratives filled with words that describe each event – each dit – on the timeline. we would have many adjectives, many sources, references to places and things, achievements and failures. we might have colors or foggy haze highlighting or distilling sections of our lifeline. we might have sections that make us look like hermits or sections that make us look downright rowdy. we might place large question marks over periods of time or, maybe, exclamation marks over moments of enlightenment.

there is one thing i know, though.

even though we are each – seemingly – the expert at our own life, there are few ways to explain it all. we attempt to connect the dots – deciphering some connections with reasonable reckoning, some connections serendipitous – but some things – the going-on from one time to another – are just, well, kind of unfigureoutable.

olympians, like artists, crawl and are catapulted by both tiny baby steps and big leaps into what’s ahead – the stuff of every nook and cranny lived part of the ingredients that place you at the starting line of next – the gate, the block, the apron of the stage, the blank paper, the record button, the empty canvas.

if you had asked me at 18 if i would ever live in the midwest, i would have firmly told you – in no uncertain terms – no. but there are things at 18 i didn’t know, things i didn’t know would happen to me, things i didn’t know i would choose, people i didn’t know i would meet, places I didn’t know i would go – all the obvious didn’t-knows. … every action, thought or event produces a corresponding result or consequence… uh-huh, yep.

but here’s another thing i also know.

when you gather all that it took to get to this point – the very point you are at right at this very moment – you should actually be a bit astounded at it all. for no matter all the specific details of your life – everything on your poster boards per se, you are still here now. there is still time – even this very minute – to do more, to say more, to make more, to move more. there is the ahead and every step takes us there. we have choices to make about what’s ahead. there are unparalleled surprises and calamities – both – in store for each of us. our poster boards aren’t done. keep the markers and crayons and thesaurus out.

we – here in the united states – live in a country with a rich – though rather brief – history. in the poster-board display of this country it would seem that we are currently lingering under a very big question mark.

i guess i wonder what in our lives would make any of us choose a dark route forward. what would make us choose cruel and abusive over kind and empathetic, with the light of hope for all? what – on this good earth in this finite life – would make us step into next, relishing adjectives of depravity and extremism?

“the road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads us to who knows where, who knows where…” (he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother – bobby scott/bob russell)

what do we want on the mutual poster boards of our country?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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like a good moisturizer. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we are not much into the glorifying of products to shape our waist, pump us up, give us clarity, thicken our hair, raise our status, change our libido, make us sexy in the first place et al. we do, however, each use one product that makes us feel like we are taking some kind of interest in how we might age. we each use moisturizer. facial moisturizer to “limit” the – ahem – aging of our faces. body moisturizer to, well, make our skin “dewy” and “resilient”. hand moisturizer to avoid the dreaded wisconsin thumbcracks. yep. we trust that these products are working and they have become a part of our careful budgeting.

barney did not subscribe to any of these products and, thus, is aging without the benefit of peptides or collagen or retinol or blue algae extract or sea parsley. i hardly think that barney cares as i truly cannot point to an aging piano more beautiful.

as each layer succumbs to the weather, we see a tiny bit more of the heartandsoul of our barney. as each layer peels back, falls off, there is evidence of yet another layer, the simple insides of an acoustic instrument whose voice box is the space within.

there is only truth in there – only pure pianovoice, only echos of the rich resonance of hammers hitting strings, only breathy harmonics.

there are few days that i don’t gaze at barney and feel grateful for its presence in our backyard. there are times i think about my growing-up-piano in our basement maybe having the same life arc. it would be difficult to get that piano up the stairs of our old house, as the enclosed staircase (enclosed since the piano was delivered downstairs) with its angles, makes two ninety degree turns, making a complete about-face…all difficult maneuvers for a hulking piano up on end. i guess we’ll see. i’m not sure that there is room for two pianos in our backyard.

in the meanwhile, barney steals the show. every little creature that makes its way into or through our yard knows this old piano. and vice-versa. this old piano knows every creature as well. including us.

just at the moment we need a smidge of something beautiful, the touch of something other-worldly, barney beckons at us from the garden and settles its serenity on our skin. like a good moisturizer.

*****

PEACE © 2004 kerri sherwood

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a recognition. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it was pretty sloggy. there was still snow on the trail. that which had melted from bright sunlight and milder temperatures made the trail muddy. very muddy. did i mention muddy?

we had on hiking boots that have uppers made of gortex. i am not crazy about my boots – i was attached to my last pair and don’t have a relationship with this pair, not yet, not even after so many miles. nevertheless, i must say that this pair kept my feet dry, which does make me a tad bit fond of them.

it was hard to stay quiet as we hiked – the sloshing sound of our boots on the path was undeniable: humans are here.

it was also hard on the legs. similar to walking in deep sand, it’s a different workout in mud and snow and ice.

we were about to turn around and head back home to a wee happy hour, but decided to keep on going a little longer.

we came up the rise and there they were, staring at us. two gorgeous deer, absolutely still. they blended into the fields, everything a seasoned shade of tan or brown.

we had eye contact – the lead deer and i. i whispered to it, trying to reassure it – even telepathically – that it was absolutely safe. we stood, watching each other.

eventually i slowly moved forward a bit, to take a picture closer-up. eventually, both deer bounded down the rise and across the trail, heading for the river.

and what a sight.

they carefully picked their way across the river, walking on the ice skillfully, even as i held my breath, hoping for their arrival on the other side.

and we just stood and watched.

i’m sure other things were going on around us – and beyond – as we stood and watched. i’m sure people elsewhere were moving about, the world had plenty of events – both extraordinary and horrific.

maybe as we stood there something big changed somewhere. maybe as we stood there nothing changed anywhere. the tilt of the axis, the spin of the earth just simply continued keeping on.

but – in us – we could feel it.

a connection with all other things living, a sense of longing for the safety of all – particularly those who and which are most vulnerable, and, once again – but never enough to consistently remember it every second of every day – a recognition of beauty and the transitory.

*****

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EARTH INTERRUPTED mixed media 50.25″ x 41″

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energy into energy. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

every time we drove past we wondered what it was going to be. the farm field had been sold and something was being built.

up north in wisconsin are farms with structures that – at the beginning of this build – look somewhat similar to what was happening here. there are ginseng farms up there. we wondered if maybe that’s what was being constructed.

what we really hoped was happening – right next door to another farm that had posted numerous maga-loving signs – is that ‘they’ – whoever ‘they’ was who had purchased the large acreage – were building a solar farm.

we were thrilled to see the metal structures and underpinnings for this solar field as it became obvious to us that – indeed – it was a solar power generating site. we cheer each time we pass it.

it is truly beyond the scope of my ability to understand the utter lack of responsibility it takes to undermine the handing-down of a healthy planet to our ancestors as the administration gutted the environmental protection agency’s endangerment finding – an agency created in 1970 to protect “clean air and clean water and open spaces as the birthright of every american.” (president richard nixon)

“an EPA that ignores science and dismantles the tools designed to protect public health and the environment cannot fulfill its mission.” (protect our winters)

with 31 deregulatory actions on the cusp of being implemented, clean air, clean water, stable seasons and public lands are all at risk. this is the potential loss of public health and environmental stability, escalating climate impacts on the world. where – on this good earth – is accountability?

when you continue south on the road with this new solar field, turn right on the county highway after passing a few more farms, and drive about a mile further, you find yourself at another construction site.

another solar field.

cheering again, we couldn’t be more proud.

the solar development of these lands is looking forward – not back. it is not mired in the self-serving profiteering of cronies’ fossil fuels. it is not ignoring the plight of the environment – this beautiful earth – and those who follow us.

instead, this solar development is part of an initiative that seeks to support the state of illinois’ goal of 100% renewable energy by 2050. renewable energy…hydro, wind, solar, biomass.

bravo, illinois.

as a country – planning for a future that can be healthy, sustaining – a country that will care for all its inhabitants – we have a long ways to go.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the stars and us. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

there are moments when it takes some extra energy to get out from underneath a warm sherpa throw blanket. it was dark. we had eaten dinner. the olympics were on. dogga was sleeping on the rug. we were snugged under the blanket, warm and cozy, tired after a long week. i could tell that neither of us was necessarily motivated to get up and go out.

but we did.

and, for that – the tinygiant bit of effort it took to move the blanket, put on boots, grab our coats and hats and gloves and keys – i am grateful.

one of the local parks was having an event friday night – a candlelit self-guided trail hike – to celebrate valentine’s day. it is one of our favorite local trails through the woods and so we had reserved tickets ahead of time. only….in the way that actuallygoing gets in the way of lazingaround….we had to buck up and go.

like i said, grateful.

we’d reserved the latest time slot, thinking there might be less people on the trail that way. we needed quiet, to be surrounded by familiar trees – even in silhouette – the inky sky above, stars twinkling.

we hiked it twice. the first time there were just a few other groups. the second time we were absolutely alone.

it was exquisite.

with just simple luminaria bags here and there showing the trail, we hiked along in the dark on a path we know oh-so-well in daylight. we’ve hiked it also as the sun sets, lingering and finishing just before dark. but this time…

we spoke a bit as we walked, but mostly listened to the sound of our boots crunching on what remained of the snow. it was the perfect end to our day and our week, and the perfect backdrop to the conversation we were having about d’s 65th birthday the next day.

he asked me how i felt when i turned 65 and i shared the myriad of feelings i had as that had approached.

mostly, i told him, i felt like it was freeing. i felt like i no longer had giant expectations or convoluted ideas of what success was. i had a different measure of achievement. i felt like it was easier to understand presence, being right where one is. i felt like some things – things that don’t really matter – just slipped away, like a silk scarf.

and, the thing i really realized was that i was just like the stars above us on that trail that very night: just a bit of dust that got to be, that had the good fortune of life, of time present on this earth.

the candlelit trail was the sweetest way to spend friday night. nothing extravagant, just the woods and snow, the stars and us.

sooo worth getting out from under the blanket.

*****

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together here. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was his birthday this weekend. he turned 65, a big-deal-birthday. my sweet momma always paid special attention to those big-deal-birthdays – especially the ones that were divisible by 5.

we had plans for friday – particularly because his actual birthday falls on busy valentine’s day – it just figures he is a valentine’s day baby! we were going to go to the milwaukee art museum and then to the public market, to sit at the counter and lunch on divine gumbo.

dogga woke us up early, not feeling well.

and that changed everything.

for this man – this man full of heart – whose very heart aligns with mine – with whom i have mutually – side by side – endured all matters of life for years now – decided he’d rather stick close to home, to be by our dogga so we can keep an eye on him and love on him.

in years hence, it will never matter to either of us whether we went to the art museum on friday, nor will it matter if we had gumbo that exact day. what will matter is that we let our love of our beloved dogga lead us and we prioritized with him in mind.

and this is just one of the reasons i know that “i don’t care about any words on the map besides you are here.”

some stuff just doesn’t matter. and where we spend time together is one of them, for anywhere on the map together – is home together.

i grant you – yes – that we would love to tool about the country – heck, the world – and explore and hike and photograph and write and paint and play music and create joy as we go. we’d love to immerse in places near and far – and feel the actual place, its actual culture, its energy, its gifts – for all places have innumerable gifts to offer.

but at this moment in time, we are happy – content – to be home in our old house, to be sharing our home with each other, to be sharing our home with our old dogga.

there will be other moments. there will be other places to see. there will be maps-with-words and plans and adventures.

right now here – with each other – is the most important place ever.

*****

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i-was-here. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it is a sweet i-was-here.

i walked into my studio and there was snowman. sometime – in some moment – dogga had picked up his treasured snowman, walked into my studio and left snowman there.

he will often just walk into my studio, kind of tool about, walk under the piano in a sweeping circle of the room and then walk back out. sometimes he – clearly – brings a toy with him.

the thing is – in no uncertain terms – for neither d nor i carry snowman around nor move him to and fro – i immediately knew dogga had been there.

in this world of chaos we are now living in, it’s a pretty good question to ask ourselves – what do we wish our i-was-here evidence to be?

it’s not as simple as a plastic squeaky toy left on an old wood floor.

but whatever it is – whatever our tracks or affirmation-of-existence, whatever snowman we leave behind – it is vital to consider, something to reckon with, legacy to bear in mind.

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

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punchbowl musings. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

and so i have some hesitancy on this. it was on the bottom shelf, tucked back into the shelf unit in the storage room, next to the blow-up pool floaties. it didn’t seem like i had thought about it for years. ok, for decades. i listed it for sale – after researching its ‘value’ as a vintage (circa 1980) cut-glass punchbowl set.

but part of my research brought me to a few blogposts others had written. and in those blogposts were these absolute gems about all the ways to use a lovely punchbowl. not just for punch.

the one that really stuck out for me – and debilitated my quest to sell-sell-sell – was the story about a lovely summer gathering where the person served gazpacho and crusty bread, glasses of chilled sauvignon blanc. yikes. i immediately wanted to have a lovely summer gathering where i serve gazpacho and crusty bread – each attendee ladling delicious soup into their handled cup and visiting on the deck or the patio under warm sun and blue skies.

so, yup…hesitancy. i mean, it all fits conveniently into a box – the base, the bowl, every last cup and hook – so why not just keep it a while longer…?

the power of story, eh?

i cried this morning. it wasn’t about the punchbowl. it was about seeing a post by my very own sister that made it obvious – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that she is completely on the other side of the current dangerous political divide.

gauging by how overtaken i was by grief, i guess i was holding out hope that the stories that are now reality in this country might have changed her mind, the minds of her immediate family members. because every story we are hearing breaks our hearts ever more. every story makes us question what in the hell is going on. every story makes us absolutely sick to our stomachs that this country has devolved into such a cruel and bigoted, sadistic and extreme place.

it is impossible for me to wrap my head around anyone – any.one. – finding acceptable any of these stories of the realities of this kind of depravity.

yet i know that there are media outlets that so many subscribe to – leave on in their family rooms, their florida rooms, their kitchens, their living rooms – for hours on end. these outlets distort the actual truth – to the nth degree. these outlets obfuscate. these outlets lie. and people are watching them, soaking it all in, pompom-ing them, lost in them.

lost.

and i feel totally crushed.

crushed.

the power of story.

used and misused.

i’ll probably eventually decide to keep the punchbowl. it is not likely to sell.

i will make gazpacho or vichyssoise and serve it in handled cut-glass cups. there will be glasses of chilled white wine and sunshine, laughter and conversation.

and stories.

of adventures, dreams, disappointments and loss.

yes.

loss.

*****

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do winter. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

dogga stands on the frozen pond out back. it is covered with snow and this is the first time – the first winter – he has not still avoided it. he’s not a water-dog so – as an aussie that circumvents it when it is an actual pond, it is surprising that he is choosing to traverse it, dig in its snow, stand on it.

winter is his favorite. it is his beach-weather. it’s his bliss.

now, i’ve heard many people lately complaining about this winter. “sick of” cold, snow, grey skies, biting winds, they crankily bemoan winter – like it’s a monster dedicated to making them miserable.

i don’t feel that way.

it’s winter, i think to myself, and winter is supposed to be like, well, winter.

the last few wisconsin winters have been easy on us, moderate temperatures, little snow, no real winterish hardships or challenges. maybe that’s made some of us less tolerant of what winter really is. but this winter feels about right, as far as i’m concerned. i think you are supposed to want to linger inside, nest, cocoon a bit. i think you are supposed to rest and maybe clean out a bit, readying yourself for spring and new growth. i think you’re supposed to take stock of it all and appreciate the change in seasons as the spinning earth revolves around the sun. i mean, maybe that’s just me.

i find great beauty in the almost-monochromatic that is winter. i find a storehouse of rejuvenation in its fallow. i find anticipation in the slowly-lengthening days, the slight uptick of temperatures. i find a little bit of hope – even in the midst of the darkness that is this country right now.

when spring comes – after the temperatures level out a little bit – we will cut these grasses down so that new growth will have room to burst through the soil. in the meanwhile the tracks around the grasses show that there are tiny creatures taking shelter in them, warmed by the fronds into which they are nestled. the snow is gorgeous – so bright out back i cannot comfortably look out the window.

it’s february. i don’t know how long winter will last. i suppose it could stretch well into april, maybe a bit into may. whatever. i am just here – me, d, dogga, our new gutters and warming cables – riding the coaster. studying the milder weather where family and friends live, i wouldn’t mind a few days in the 60s, but i kind of need the seasons to be what they are.

we watched the birds in the birdbath yesterday. there were at least seven birds splashing and drinking out there. i guess the sun was strong enough to melt the snow that had accumulated. they seem elated. they’d fly away and then return, waiting their turn on the edge of the bath together. they know where the birdfeeder is and they frequent it. their chirping and birdsong in the morning reassures me that – yes – it’s just winter and this is what winter is like.

i don’t want to race through. i don’t want to wish for months from now. I don’t want time to go by without my acknowledgement of some sort, my appreciation.

i just want to do winter – because it IS winter.

i’ll get to spring when it’s spring.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this not-so-flawed wednesday

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and in it you. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

many, many years ago a dear person said to me, “i see the full moon out my window, and, in it, you.”

like you – especially if you are a woman – i have had a mixture of flattering comments and detritus thrown my way. this one sentence – spoken to me so long ago – stands in one of the most complimentary spots. it wasn’t sugary sweet, nor cajoling. it wasn’t smarmy; it wasn’t even ingratiating. there was no endgame, no agenda. there wasn’t even any expected response. it just was.

i thought about this the other night while i lay awake in the wee hours. from my cozy spot, out the mini blinds to my right, i could see it – the full moon. and every time i see the full moon, i think of these words.

i don’t think that the person who said this to me knew what kind of a gift they were giving me. i don’t think that they knew i would carry these words for decades. they are tucked in, ready to be plucked and re-heard in the cassette tape of my memory at any moment. they are words of value, words of connectivity, words of great love.

for how often have you stood on the ground-dirt of this earth and looked up at the moon…knowing full well that this – indeed – is the same moon we all see, the same moon that shines on all earth, the same moon above everyone’s piece of ground? when every beloved, every family member, every friend, every person of every single social identifier looks at the moon, it is this moon. no other.

we each – here on this earth – simultaneously inhabit this very moon. we each are a part of its light, privy to its lunar cycles, part of the tide of this earth.

as we watched the olympics opening ceremony, i jotted down many of kirsty coventry’s words as the president of the international olympic committee.

she spoke the african word “ubuntu” and i – a part of the earth and of the moon – immediately was drawn to it.

for ubuntu is translated to: i am because we are.

yes.

she continued, “we can only rise by lifting others…respect, support and inspire one another.”

and “the best of humanity is found in courage, compassion and kindness.”

is not each of us held to this basic moral standard? is not each of us obligated to feel gratitude for a place on this earth? is not each of us – as seen in the moon – here to illuminate the rest of earth, to bring light to others, to be light?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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