reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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notice-wonder-mode. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

sometime in the two-thousand-aughts my girl and my boy gifted me with a tall bamboo vessel filled with feathery ochre and barn red reeds. it immediately found its way into a special spot – any gifts they give me are so very cherished – and it has moved around from time to time.

its last long-term place of residence was in our sitting room, but we did some rearranging a couple years back and it found its way into our bedroom, right between the gingham wingback recliner and the windows. the east windows. and there it has stayed – this place where it welcomes the sun each day and holds steady as light streams over it. from our perch on the pillows, it is a beautiful fluff of color and light and shadow. i can’t imagine it in a better place.

on a morning recently, the sun was coming up at just the right angle to tiger-ize these dried plumes. stunning. the things you notice when you are in notice-wonder-mode.

on a walk recently we talked about our life together. things are pretty simple these days – as we hold vigil for our dogga – not venturing out too far for too long. some days are better than others for him. some days he has puppy-face on and he is strong and vibrant and enthusiastic. some days he has old-man-face on and he is slow and tired and his stomach is upset and it is clear that he is uncomfortable. the difference in these days is striking and there is no way to predict which day it will be when the sun is rising.

dogga wakes us around 4:30. he is hungry from the overnight fast and so he recognizes that his sensitive belly needs breakfast. after he eats, we sleep for maybe another hour – maybe – but then he wakes us because, well, we think he wants us up, he wants our company, he wants to start what he knows is the morning ritual – “put the coffee on,” he urges.

like people with sensitive bellies or dietary concerns or various other health reasons, he eats little bits every few hours. it seems to really help him. we make special meals for him and try to read him best as we can.

we were invited to go away with friends recently. not only was the weather going to be perfect but we love our adventures with these friends and so getting away with them would have been perfect as well.

we struggled with leaving dogga.

and ultimately decided we couldn’t go.

we don’t know what will happen to our old dogga as these days go by. we know we are very lucky to still have him with us. no matter what, our commitment to him has to outweigh anything we are doing just for ourselves, outweigh any fomo, outweigh any uncertainty. this sweet aussie has given his whole life to us – he has ridden the roller coaster of the last thirteen plus years with us – he has been steadfast and sensitive and intuitive and our rock. we stand in all these moments now with him, without knowing the course that things will take.

and so, we will be in notice-wonder-mode. the moon rising over the lake, the last cherry tomatoes and a bit of remaining basil, the edges of the aspen leaves changing, an exchanged glance yoga-mat-to-yoga-mat as we exercise in the living room, the bazillion blooms on the black cherry mum, the taste of an oven-baked baked potato with just salt and pepper, the crunch of homemade salsa on a chip, first morning coffee, the coze of our new sweatshirts, dogga grinning at us during a belly-belly, an unsolicited text from the kids, the first jeans day of fall, and, yes, the golden light on the plumes by the window.

*****

as it is © 2004 kerri sherwood

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fleur-de-lis thoughts. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the tidbit server is an etched clear glass tray – vintage fostoria from the 30s or maybe a tad closer to mid-century – with a fleur-de-lis finial in the center. though difficult to store, it is a lovely piece passed down to me and i keep it at hand so that i might use it from time to time. i thought about this tray the instant we passed by the canna lily on the sidewalk by the art center. the brilliant orange-red petals – aglow with noon sun – curled back from the center, revealing nature’s fleur-de-lis, right there, just waiting for us.

we walked home and i looked in the corner cabinet built into our dining room – just to say hello to this piece, remembering my sweet momma using it on special occasions and recommitting to using it any old time.

we were at old navy browsing. they were having big sales and plain black sweatshirts were a part of the sale: $20! – less than half price! it’s been a long time since we each got a new sweatshirt – years, really – so we looked for a couple in big, cozy oversizes, and splurged. just the idea of a new sweatshirt for the fall days and nights rapidly approaching made us excited. we know there is a low bar for eliciting our excitement, but, heck, new yummy sweatshirts would make anyone pretty gleeful.

we imagined walking in all our favorite places with these new sweatshirts. and, though we are not traveling these days – instead, staying at home with our aging dogga – we could well imagine wearing these in the mountains, on the coast, up north, in canyonlands, out in the desert after sunset.

it also means, maybe, that some of our ancient sweatshirts may move on. well, except for the north face clearance ones that are falling apart from close to a dozen years of wear and tear. or the old zip-up that d uses when he paints in his studio. or the cropped zip-up i wore on every single solo roadtrip i took for years – like a reassuring, protective guardian – my support hoodie – now at least 25 years old – with no cuffs left to be found and a paper clip as a zipper pull. yeah, these will not go – no one else would want them, nor would we even give away such shoddy shirts with so much meaning.

but there are others – sweatshirts i collected over the years touting places or universities or organizations. some of those are in very good condition and still have lots of wearing to be done.

it’s a funny thing about old stuff. a few years back i thought that this fleur-de-lis glass tray might be a good thing to move on – to sell to someone who might really relish its vintage beauty, who might use it in regular rotation.

and then i realized that person is me.

the etched glass tray and the tattered papercliphoodie are in different classes entirely. but they are both expressions of who i am, where i have come from, where i might be going.

as soon as the beakyrule has run its course – and i can wear the brand new thing – i’ll be wearing that new black sweatshirt, being all cozy-like. hopefully it will feel just right, right away.

in the meanwhile, it’ll just have to wait for its wings, sitting patiently on the cedar chest in our room, on top of the old quilt and under my sunhat.

the next time we passed the canna lily, it was no longer in fleur-de-lis position, a ballerina in positions of grace. it had withered a bit, its petals less reaching-for-the-sun, more cuff-less and zipperpull-less, but, i noted, no less of a blossom.

*****

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a little more mum. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

after all the rain – followed by some big dashes of cold – i thought that the potting stand would be done-in. i figured that any tiny cherry tomatoes would have fallen off the vine, that the basil would be drowning, that the mint would have given up, that the jalapeños would stop being-a-pepper. i was concerned about the rest too…the sweet potato vine, the fern, the licorice plant, the tiny purple flowers in planters. i wasn’t sure i was ready for what that would mean – the end of summer – even though we are now past the official date for the start of fall.

i haven’t really been a mum person. truth be told, i’m not sure what a mum-person is, but i just know I haven’t gravitated toward mums. despite their unrelenting determination to bloom and to flourish in the roller coaster of autumn, i think it might be how structured a mum tends to look….a tight little ball of green with lots and lots of buds just waiting to burst into color. now, i don’t know if there could be anything at all wrong with such a plant – we all need that kind of steadfastness, that kind of dogged dedication to blooming. there was just always something stopping me from mumming.

until this year.

our friends have a black cherry mum on their front steps – its blooms the color of deeply ripe bings in the summer, the color of the name of one of my favorite “sodas” growing up, the only color of choir robe i ever thought was aesthetically appropriate for everyone in a choir (should robes be necessary at all). their mum…stunning.

i commented on this mum and they promptly told me they had gotten it at the local grocery store, which has a plethora of them out front – all different colors.

the next day they texted that the price had been reduced – to $12. now, this is a really big plant. and full of potential blossoming mum-flowers. and so…

we went to the grocery store that morning and chose our new mum-plant to come home with us, gently placing it in the back seat of big red.

it has exploded with gorgeous blooms and has been absolutely steady and unperturbed all through the torrential rains we had after its homecoming. like it is…carefree.

now, “carefree” is not a word i would have used to describe a mum – unlike the wildly growing ornamental grasses in our yard, it seems to have more framework, more parameters for its growth, a tad bit more structure. hmmm.

we have recently discovered that – in lieu of doing chores as needed – there are some things that work better within a charlie’s-plan kind of plan. certain days or dates for certain things – a tad bit more structure – it takes away the spontaneity yet – surprisingly – frees up space.

in essence, we have found that it can be effective to be a little more mum.

and so, our little black cherry plant sits on our deck and giggles, “and they thought they weren’t mum-people.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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little by little. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it seems impossible. how did we get to the end of september? where has all the time gone?

in the middle of the chaos that is now this country’s daily life, we have lost time. it would seem we have lost more than that.

the leaf is on the sidewalk. it looks like someone has crayoned around the edges.

little by little chlorophyll is lost from the leaf, brown steadily moves inward, closer and closer to the stem.

little by little the chaos seeps into the country’s veins, the inhumanity is normalized, the rights disappear, the constitution is ignored.

little by little necrosis seeps toward the innermost part of the leaf.

little by little authoritarianism seeps into the heart, the law of the people.

little by little the leaf curls to its cells dying.

little by little people are silent – or – are silenced. little by little air is removed from the populace.

how is this even real life?

the leaf is browning – from stress, lack of water, damage. it is dying – from the outside in. it feels too metaphoric to even write about.

the goodness is fading – from gluttony, grift, damaging corruption, out-and-out cruelty. the country is flailing.

how much green is left? where has all the time gone?

*****

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rain is rain. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

a very long time ago – decades – my friend joe-z took me on the curvy, hilly route 25A on long island – east of northport – to teach me how to drive his datsun 240Z.

at the time my own car was my 1971 volkswagen superbeetle bug, so i was driving something that was quite a bit more tame than the 240Z – ok, a lot more tame than the 240Z.

his red z-car was powerful, low to the ground, with a very responsive suspension and tight steering. it was a lot to handle if you wanted to take it to its limits. i remember it as being stick shift – four on the floor – like my bug.

i was timid as we started, the curves of the road intimidating, the hills and slanted roadway a bit nerve-wracking with this much power in my hands.

but joe-z was patient and had time to spend. and, among other things, he taught me that driving into the curves – accelerating – would give me the ability to control the curves and not have the curves control me.

i can still remember driving that Z, still remember the power under me, still remember the lessons from those times driving that car in various conditions.

so i nodded during the movie the art of racing in the rain when the race car driver character denny said, “no one knows what curves life will throw at you, but if the driver has the courage to create his own conditions, then the rain is simply rain.”

25A’s curves are simply curves. its hills are simply hills. and the road right in front of you is what exists.

in this time of my life, i am finding that courage is the thing that counts. the unpredictability of life can be mind-boggling and sometimes shattering – in so many ways – and accelerating around the curves may well be the only difference between succumbing or having some sort of control.

on these particularly rainy days, we can see that rain is most definitely rain. it can overwhelm the land, communities, spirits.

standing up to the fear of any of that while adapting best as one can may not diminish the rain’s potential impact – we cannot underplay the rain’s havoc-wreaking. but presence, resilience and placing your eyes where you want to go – like the race car driver in the movie – can help survive the conditions.

we can learn from each other – lessons that generalize over spectrums of life: shift our weight in the saddle, press into the turning waterski, sustain-pedal with some reserve, taste food before salting.

rain can simply be rain.

*****

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if only. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

every day now the mourning dove shows up. all by itself, it sits on the wire. not cooing or preening at all, it appears to be waiting, waiting.

something about this lone dove tugs at me every time i witness its silent vigil. it feels as if it has lost its life partner and its perch – high above the backyards it can see – gives it a place from which to search or from which to be quiet and pine. though i know that it could be acting as a sentinel for a nest or simply resting with an eye to predators, there is something else i can feel.

i’ve whispered up to this mourning dove – that i see it, that i am privy to its vigil and that i honor its steadfastness, its constancy. i tell it that i am witness to what seems like its sadness. i hardly know if it helps – or if the dove can hear me or understand me. but being here and watching and aware, it feels like i am honoring its story.

it is not unlike that which we could do for each other. all each others, regardless. if only we were to sit on metaphoric high wires quietly and listen to each other, honor each others’ stories, be witness to joy or pain, hold one another tenderly. if only.

“i’m not just a chapter, i’m not pretty verse. i wanna be the thread that goes forward and reverse in your life, in your life. i wanna be written in your life.” (written in your life – from the album ‘as sure as the sun‘ – © 2002 kerri sherwood)

*****

written in your life © 2002 kerri sherwood

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gold dust. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

scrolling through IG i came across a post with a series of memes – positive words we’ve all heard before, but all succinctly placed as text boxes in appealing photographs that tug at our attention. words like: “be grateful that you slipped through the hands of people who had no f-ing idea how to hold you.” and “i hope you heal from things that nobody apologized for.”

there were more – i took a couple screenshots but then just became lost in this slew of (some really touching) reminders – things we all need to hear from time to time, things that – in the right moment – have the power to make us stop and think, lessen any ever-present pain, stop any perseverating we might be doing that might be harming us or taking away precious time of which we have not-enough.

it was the music that did me in. judah earl’s sand drawing was playing as the soundtrack music for these thoughtful emotion-elicitors. it was all at once striking and familiar. atmospheric and haunting, it reminded me of arvo part’s spiegel im spiegel with a soaring cello line and supportive simple piano. omg. just gorgeous.

the other day we passed by a couple who in the past have deeply hurt us. though they had posed as good friends back then, they were involved in some serious backstabbing behavior, sheer hypocrisy to their stated belief system, the antithesis of what they (piously) claim to be. it pains me to think about it. as we passed, the female of the couple cheerfully said, “hi guys,” as if nothing had ever transpired, as if they had never been betraying to the bonds of friendship of which they had pretended to have.

it was a gut punch for me.

i completely ignored them as they passed within a foot or so on the sidewalk. it was strange to be in such close proximity to someone who had never apologized for their wrongdoing, had never even offered contrition, clearly never had any remorse whatsoever. i imagine that you have had an experience or two like this as well…the reason for my sharing.

it was a couple days later that the reassuring memes came across my screen.

the timing of the universe is sometimes exquisite. it gave me time enough to ponder what had happened but not enough time to immerse fully back in the hurt.

the golden cord in the cloud was there and then it wasn’t. it dissipated as our relationship with the sun changed, light moving in the sky.

the cello line soared and then dropped to a whisper, the piano steady behind it, chording a base harmony, structural and necessary.

the universe stood steady for me, for us, as we processed – once again – what these people had done – people who we trusted, to whom we felt connection, with whom we shared community. it reminded me – it reminded us – that – just as in the IG meme – we had slipped through their hands and that we should feel gratitude instead of loss. some things are just not meant to stay the same. including relationships.

and the mixture of emotions joined the whisper of cello and slipped into the shimmer of gold dust in the cloud. and the cloud moved through the sky and just as quickly as it had shone up, suddenly the gold dust was gone. looking for the next heart that needed it.

*****

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THE STUFF OF DREAMS mixed media 24″x24″

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the paper chain. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

i recently made a chain of paper rings. it had about thirty strips of colored paper – many of the colors visible and invisible in this cloud – each cut with fancy paper scissors or pinking shears, looped, stapled and hung on the closet in our room.

it was a countdown and i needed the visual to keep it all in perspective, to remember to hold it all lightly, to know that there are days before The Day and days after The Day.

our whole lives are filled with paper rings, connected loops that go on and on and on. each season of our lives drops to the floor when we cut the loops loose and then – miraculously and on cue – the next season starts.

i had placed a lot of emphasis on The Day at the end of the paper chain. when it arrived, not only was it anticlimactic, it turned out to be utterly disappointing, completely unsatisfactory and a day that had been overemphasized in my mind and heart as we headed toward it, lopping off loop after loop.

i suppose that this is not uncommon. anticipatory angst, anticipatory fear, anticipatory grief, anticipatory glee at completing something – they are all supercharged and take up a lot of space in us. i read that the buddha would view it as dukkha– which is unnecessary suffering – that which pulls us away from the present moment. the wish for a specific outcome rails against the fear of that outcome not coming to fruition – it all is a tug-of-war and is suffering itself. at the end of the paper chain something is to happen – we imagine the best, we imagine the worst – all unwritten, all fictitious, unpromised though powerful – but what about every moment – every loop – in the meanwhile?

the rainbow in the cloud was just beautiful. it morphed and changed with the wind, but it stuck around for a while before it vanished. we watched from the adirondack chairs on the patio, content to be in its company.

maybe it was a reminder that nothing is permanent, that no paper chain has a guarantee, that each loop counts. and so does every color.

*****

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distinctly nebulous. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i’m not sure i ever noticed the shadow. for decades i’ve looked at sky and clouds and contrails and rows and floes of angel hair (oops – off-track, there)….but i don’t know that i ever noticed the shadow.

there are days that some new learning just utterly astounds you – even something really basic, something that has been there all along, something as simple as some word you’ve incorrectly spelled all-your-life. the possibilities are endless. we are fortunate that way.

we were out the other day and someone asked us if we were “retired“. we laughed, mostly because that isn’t an easy question for us. “retired” implies that one has completed the working portion of their life and has moved into a phase wherein one collects some sort of pension or retirement and one does, well, whatever one wants.

we answered that our son calls us “nebulously retired“. the guy who asked us laughed. and we added that we are artists and artists don’t really retire. we don’t report to a certain place each day at a certain time for a certain wage but we don’t stop working either. artistry is an ongoing thing, whether or not it earns you a pension.

artistry also calls you to keep learning, to keep asking questions, to be intrigued, to hone your skills, to work at it – no matter your age or stage.

and so, the contrail shadow made me curious and i looked it up – this seeming optical illusion of line on the bank of clouds that were, apparently, below it. it is a little mind-twisting. but oh-so-interesting and photo-worthy.

though photography has not been any official part of my artistry it is something i have always loved. ever since my sweet momma and poppo gave me a 35mm camera for my early-high-school-graduation, i have carried cameras around with me. with the advent of phone cameras that are better than most older digital cameras, i am even more zealous now. the contrail invited me to take its picture. and it’s too easy.

and, yes, it’s too easy to just keep going, keep creating, keep learning – even nebulously. we both keep it fluid – this relationship with our artistry. the line is vague, the distinction is indistinct, blurry.

we are sometimes the contrail and sometimes the shadow and sometimes the clouds upon which the shadow is cast. and we like it that way. distinctly nebulous.

*****

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

looking back on the 25th anniversary of september 11 i am struck at how viscerally profound it remains – in my heart, my mind, my body. not that i am surprised. it was an absolute day of terror – and none of us alive during it will ever forget.

scrolling anytime before, on or after the-day-25-years-later of these brutal attacks on our democracy, there are memes after memes on social media. person after person writing the words, “never forget!”

and that – i agree with.

but, many of the persons posting this are of a different political persuasion than me – many of them are carrying zealous pompoms for the current administration and for its undermining of this nation’s constitution.

so what – exactly – is it that those people are asking us not to forget about september 11, 2001?

is it how the country – and all its occupants – came together on that day – reaching out to each other, to help in the crisis, to comfort, to give aid, to stand with – regardless of any – ANY – differences?

is it how this country was helped by – and was grateful for – its allies in the time, the days, the months, the years after these hideous events?

is it how this nation’s people embraced each other, grateful to be alive, deeply grieving those whose lives were taken by this evil?

is it how there were adults in charge, who spoke eloquently and thoughtfully about the course of events, who made intelligent, well-advised decisions not based on impulsivity or gluttonous greed or narcissistic aggrandizing?

is it how the administration encouraged unity on the very day of these attacks: “this is a day when all americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace.“? (president bush)

is it how that president called for solidarity- instead of divisiveness – asking the country to put aside differences, support first responders, and stand together with resolve and shared purpose?

are these the things that the supporters of the current administration are talking about when they implore us to “never forget”?

because as i see it – their support of the heinousness of this administration means that they have already forgotten.

and in looking at what they are instead aligning themselves with, i say – with a heart, mind and body that remembers 9/11 – i dissent.

*****

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