reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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our sturdy old tree. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

at approximately 3:48 last wednesday afternoon, in the first mighty gust of the storm, the great soul – the great tree – in our front yard – for decades and decades and decades – fell. and nothing was the same.

this sturdy old tree was wise beyond its years, withstanding all manner of weather-fury, all seasons of plenty and not-enough.

this sturdy old tree – magnificent, its canopy shading our lawn, its spirit encircling our home and family – stood vigil out in front, a talisman of protection and a peaceful adapter to the change of winter to spring, of autumn to winter, each time, bending to the rules – or whims – of nature…for at least seventy-five years.

this sturdy old tree – was what i looked at from the nursery while rocking babies, looking out the window. it marked the passage of time as my babies grew, early morning light in its leaves, the sun setting through its crown, its winter-nakedness to its verdant maple-leaf splendor, its yellow glow in fall, the way snow lay on its strong branches, its promise in early spring.

this sturdy old tree – was what i looked at from my bench in my studio, sitting at my piano composing, lyricizing, practicing. it gave me breath and reminded me to place rests in the music, to give others breath, time to process, to take in, to feel. i stared at this tree out the window from that spot, standing still or sitting quietly, pondering what had been, what was, what might be. it was a touchstone of consistency, of continuity, of the timeline that goes back and forward, dynamic.

this sturdy old tree greeted us as we came down our road, as we turned the corner. it offered shelter and filtered sunlight, framed the moon and the stars and planets, played with color at dusk. it elicited our appreciation for yet another homecoming. it was the monument, the lighthouse, the trailmarker that said “home”.

this sturdy old tree – wizened – was that which i advocated for, in times of electric-wire-branch-trimming, in times of water main work, in times of road construction, in times of other injuries it withstood.

i whispered words of – truly loving – gratitude to it, “you did nothing wrong. you did everything right,” as they began to tend to the-cleaning-up after the wind had wreaked havoc upon it. with more extreme storms coming – and a heavily one-sided bit of our beloved tree left – i knew that it was its time. and it was hard to watch, this family member which had preceded me, which had lived here the whole time i have, which had seen much life in that bit of yard at this house on this street. we were fortunate that it was our tree and we loved it for being our tree.

it feels like a marker in time to have felt and heard this great tree fall. to see its brokenness. its soul continues on with us; we need that wisdom and resilience, especially now. we need its tenacity as it aged, especially now. we need its stalwart goodness, its dedication to being the best tree it could be, especially now.

our big, sturdy old tree lives on. it will always be one of the great trees because of its great soul.

and – after its decades and decades and decades of time as a tree on this good earth – in the bowing of its beautiful canopy of leaves, its hefty rough-barked branches, its branches that curved outward with a bowl in the center of the trunk where creatures could rest and shelf fungus could excel, it reminds us of something:

there is no great anything without a great soul.

“and when great souls die/after a period peace blooms,/slowly and always/irregularly. spaces fill/with a kind of/soothing electric vibration./our senses, restored, never/to be the same, whisper to us./they existed. they existed. /we can be. be and be/better. for they existed.” (maya angelou)

*****

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

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convergence. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i could get lost in just gazing at this spot where greens converge. i find myself breathing deeply, taking it in, appreciating how utterly extraordinary the nuance, how textural, how life-affirming.

it has been a week. with multi-layered challenges, personal and nationwide.

in the middle of the week, neck spasms – which i had in february for the first time in my life – and which sent me to the emergency room – returned with a vengeance. to say that i was laying awake all night, fearful of the way these manifested in my shoulders, my jaw, my chest, my neck, would be an understatement. it was downright scary. and so painful – even for someone with a relatively high pain threshold.

when it finally slightly eased up for a bit in the morning – after a long, sleepless night – i was exhausted and overcome with how it must be for people who are in chronic pain. the chronic pain of disease, of life-altering treatment plans, of hunger and thirst and of not-enough, of homelessness, of psychological and emotional scars, of addiction, of deep, all-consuming worry. thinking of others always puts one’s own pain in perspective.

for a bit of time – the bit when the spasms did not refer to all these other parts of my upper body – i could breathe more deeply. and so i went outside to our deck and little potting stand – to look at new growth, to soak in the colors green.

in wednesday’s news there was much headlining about a quiet interview that the speaker of the house had on a tiny radio station in his home state. and, in that interview, he revealed the intention of this administration – to fix (read: gut) medicaid, medicare and social security in an effort to free up money so that this government might be able to make a dent in the country’s trillions of dollars of debt which is – clearly – attributed to mountains of tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy.

so. their goal? take away from the most vulnerable and the eldest in order to further bankroll the gluttony.

it is hard to wrap your head around this kind of whoring of humanity. the word “disgusted” barely touches it.

again, i say, there is no reverence. they have reverence for nothing.

i wonder what our communities, our states, our nation, our world will look like once they have eliminated all that is good, all that is natural, all that is lawful, all that is compassionate, all that is life-giving or life-affirming. what will be left after the land and the natural resources and the regular folk and the goodness are decimated?

as i stood and looked at our tiny vegetable and herb garden, i was filled by the beauty, wrapped in the essence of green, and a sense of balance was restored in me.

though the spasms started up again, this is not about my neck spasms. when they re-started, i felt slightly more equipped to deal with them, carrying into the pain the knowledge that they would – in time – ease up.

but for some, there is no easing up. there is only long-term pain, without ceasing.

there are people intentionally hunted down for their ethnicity, people intentionally taken off rolls for food assistance, medical assistance, housing assistance. people removed from jobs of science and education and journalism so that the country ceases progressive forward-movement and so that the only narrative going forth is vile, self-serving propaganda. there are people targeted by the brandishing of bigotry. there are people whose chronic pain – no matter what it is – no matter the umbrella under which it falls – seem a nuisance to this administration, an administration without a heart or a conscience or any sense of reverence for anything other than self and money and retribution.

were i to be given a choice – live acknowledging simplicities – like the nuance of green OR live inside the insanity of always-wanting-needing-hoarding of moremoremore – i would go with cherishing the tomato plants and herbs and lavender and licorice plant every time.

i would go with the convergence of green, the convergence of goodness, the convergence of growth, the nuance of breath, the affirmation of life, living and reverence for it all.

*****

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it has the heart of… [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the question “when does it cease being a peony?” never occurs to me. because it never ceases being a peony. it is intrinsic, even as its extrinsic identity falls – petal by petal – to the ground.

the storms came. and wind and heavy rain. and the peonies bowed to them. the blooms were large – triumphant pink – but couldn’t withstand and, though some blossoms remained intact, many began to lose their velvet petals as the deluge let up and the sun came out.

there was not a peony on that entire plant, though, that was not still a beautiful peony. even with pistil exposed, with stamen missing, with wrinkled or missing petals. through the storm – and after – it remained – drumroll – a peony.

the storm has been brewing. apparently, there is more to the storm than i understood – as i now realize that there has been much in the history of our country i did not learn – so much was about teaching to the test we missed the dualistic humanity of the narrative. the story is not so innocent; the intentions are not so magnanimous. there is much malevolence in the story of this country and current events are mimicking the evil of earlier times.

but the democracy has been in place now for two hundred and fifty years.

yet, devastatingly, we celebrate america’s birthday just as we are watching the takedown of america’s freedoms, laws, its very constitution.

when does it cease being a democracy?

that question had never before occurred to me with such a sense of urgency. until now.

now i am worried.

the peony is a peony any and all times because it has the heart of a peony. it is nothing else. it hasn’t been anything else. it won’t be anything else.

but what about these united states?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

WEEPING MAN mixed media 48” x 36” – available for purchase

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what about? [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it isn’t hard.

it isn’t hard to clean and fill the birdbath so that the birds in the area can count on a drink of fresh, clean water.

it isn’t hard to clean and fill the birdfeeders – or the hummingbird feeder – or the oriole feeder – so that, if necessary, the birds in the area can count on accessible, clean food.

it isn’t hard to sweep the driveway and clear off the seedshells on the top of barney so that the birds in the area aren’t sickened by wet, moldy seed or bits of bread that have become sodden and mildewed.

it just isn’t hard.

but neither is it hard to be concerned – to wrap your heart around – those people in our country who are hungry, who do not have enough food, enough clean water, who are suffering from hunger-related or poor food issues.

yet, the government of this country – the administration that is gluttonous even beyond our imagination – has eliminated millions of dollars funding yet another source of food for the hungry, for the downtrodden, those who can ill afford food yet face peril without it.

i am truly sick of it.

what is so hard about this?

ours is a government in charge of a large country filled with people of phenomenal potential – yet they are limiting the most basic element of need for those very people – so that they might fund a garish ballroom and its associated bunker, an ill-intentioned war and its apparently-coveted weapons of mass destruction, vanity projects, payola to criminals pardoned by a narcissistic hand, wildly expansive tax cuts for the wealthiest, crude corruption never before witnessed on such a cavalier, widescale plane, the slicing and dicing of healthcare, education, global health, medical research, climate change programs that actually help people, mass deportation sans conscience, and the elimination of lawful rights of people who fall under the machete of bigotry.

but, you say, what about the people…how does this government view the everyday, everysingleperson people?

and what about the american goldfinch?

they clearly could care less.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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stunning evening. stunning evening. stunning evening. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

a couple weeks ago, on friday night’s date-night, we had no plan – as is often the case. we so enjoy the sanctuary of our backyard that it, more than not, wins over going out anywhere. it was quiet and the sun was waning, a little cool. we added a layer and talked about watching a movie outside or taking a walk.

we hadn’t yet been – this season – to the marina in a town down the road where they sponsor live music at a biergarten on the harbor. and so we decided to jaunt down there for just a bit, walk on the boardwalk along the lake, listen to the band.

it was a stunning evening – between 7:30 and 8:30 the star of the show. the sun was setting on the western swale horizon of sand prairie grasses and fen. little to no wind, perfect temperatures, boats lining the docks, guitar strains in the air, a paramotorist sailing across the sky.

this past friday night, on friday night’s date-night, we left for milwaukee in humidity that made my hair into unkempt-fuzzy-curly-big-1980s. our third time to see our son perform at milwaukee pride, we were excited as ever. it was also a stunning evening – between 7:30 and 8:30 the star of the show – for us.

leading with the joy of doing what you really love, they took the stage and transformed the house. what had been a meager audience, with a complete lack of dance juju – with a lead-in karaoke non-dance-non-EDM-music performer inappropriately booked into a dance pavilion slot by someone who clearly did not understand how to shape the evening – well, they turned it around. in short order, there were hundreds and then thousands of people under the pavilion, dancing, raising their arms in the air, celebrating. i’m sure the next performers were grateful; our boys were one heck of a lead-in for that next slot.

we took photographs over by the water, the sky turning inkier as time went on. they went on to play a big nightclub gig and we drove home with lightning in the sky to our west, glad that the storm hadn’t arrived any earlier.

it’s saturday as i write this. tonight, i imagine, we’ll make some homemade pizza and a salad, maybe pour a glass of wine, turn on some music, and sit at the bistro table on our deck. our old dogga – who is worrying us a lot these days – will lay nearby and we three will watch the sky change as day moves to night.

another stunning evening.

*****

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

this reminds me of the song lyrics: “what goes up must come down/spinnin wheel gotta go round/talkin ’bout your troubles is a crying sin/ride a painted pony, let the spinnin’ wheel spin….” (david clayton-thomas). spinning wheel is a late 60s song – popular by blood, sweat and tears.

john denver’s quote is likely from ten to twenty years later: “things go up and down. if you can survive the down it will come back.”

both encourage holding on for the long haul – which is precisely what we need right now. to survive.

though as i write this, i am pondering the wisdom in simply riding a painted pony and letting the spinning wheel spin. we need something different now. inaction in these times is not survival. it is how a democracy perishes.

it is a bit like the recent flippant current-administration quote “just sit back and relax. it will all work out well in the end – it always does.”

for who?

that makes my skin crawl.

every single day the new news astonishes us and, yeah, doesn’t astonish us. it’s always more of the same – gluttony, cruelty, bigotry, corruption – exhibited and acted on by people in positions for which they have no credentials but for sycophantic loyalty.

sitting back and relaxing because it will be well in the end is merely complicity. it’s going down with the ship without even trying. to go down and to not come back.

the words “it will work out well” are suspect. they are the cavalier words of a dictator. and, in a twist of twists, these are the words – the recommendation – of the leader of the free world.

is this really where two hundred fifty years has brought us?

*****

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

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peaceful coexistence. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we can’t wait for this evening. we will drive the backroads with hundreds of thousands of others in wisconsin – all out on a friday night.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will join with fifty-thousand others in milwaukee attending one of the three days of PRIDEFEST.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will be with the tens of thousands wandering the summerfest grounds for the friday evening shows.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will stand in the dance pavilion – out in front, in the house, or backstage – either place – with over five thousand other people in that same pavilion and gathered all around its edges – and we will watch our son perform.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will have the moment of his first downbeat, the moment he raises his hands in the air, the joy on his face under spotlights and between pyrotechnic fountains of sparkling stars and confetti releases. we will likely be standing and dancing and cheering with a group of his friends, a group of deric’s friends – deric who shares the stage with craig as they perform together as EDM artists DOGGPOUND.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will hug him after his performance, ecstatic with him on this day, on this journey. our own pride will be bursting and he will absolutely know it. just as he has absolutely known – since the very moment he came out – that he is loved and – with-no-exceptions – completely accepted, embraced and supported.

we can’t wait for this evening. we’ll watch him and a large contingency of friends and fans as they all go on their way, celebrating peaceful coexistence at this celebratory festival. we will walk around, buy rainbow trinkets, happily ensconced and feeling a sense of belonging.

we can’t wait for this evening when we drive home on those same backroads and talk about the night. we will be exhausted and exhilarated. we will be thrilled to have spent such amazing time with our son – we will be looking forward to the next.

and then, we can’t wait for chicago’s PRIDEFEST when we’ll take the train down and spend an afternoon and evening in the streets of boystown. we’ll stand with the setting sun on our faces and – again – watch our son perform. there will be many hugs – his friends will surround us and make us feel at home. and at the end of that day, getting back on the train, we will again feel exhausted and exhilarated, both. we will sit back and talk about the day and the people – the people – all of whom are there to just simply honor each other and their very important place in the world – peacefully together.

we can’t wait for a day when all the world is a continual pridefest, when all the world honors each other’s place in the world, when all the world feels that kind of love for one another, when all the world lives in peace.

*****

PEACE © 2004 kerri sherwood

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braided days. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

“in contrast to our frenetic, saturated lives, the earth offers a calming stillness. movement and growth in nature takes time. … there is something in our clay nature that needs to continually experience this ancient, outer ease of the world. it helps us remember who we are and why we are here.” (john o’donohue)

this must be what’s missing. as we get besieged with new news – all pretty horrible, the stuff of gluttony, haughty entitlement and bigotry truly beyond belief – i have wondered what it is in these people that is missing, what it is in these people that doesn’t grok the evanescence of life, what it is in these people that drives them to push for – or cheer for – a world without natural beauty, a world that seems twisted, that convolutes nature – botoxing faces and bodies, annihilating parks and resources, canyons and forests, waterways, wildlife, wildflowers that will never bloom.

if you never stand in nature – still – never even for a moment in the tiny – or vast – space just outside wherever it is you hang your hat, you miss the air that swirls around you, the recognition of another-day, the exquisite velvet softness of a peony petal in the growth stage of a bloom when it has just begun to open.

how can you carry that – the grace, the scent, the unbelievable creation of peony pink – and be anything but awed? how can you watch the play of light on tight buds opening before your very eyes and consider your self-serving dystopian game more important? how can you ignore the explosions of color, the frequencies of sound, the vibrations under your feet and all around your body even when you are still? how can your gaze glance over beauty and not have any pondering about who you are and how you – a humble minute being of clay and stardust – fit in with all the rest? how can you breathe air – feeling the world in your lungs – and be unconcerned about the air and the world future generations will breathe? what is missing in these people?

“when you take the time to travel with reverence, a richer life unfolds before you. moments of beauty begin to braid your days.” (john o’donohue)

reverence.

it’s reverence that is missing.

*****

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daisy-path-ing. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

we took off our sunhats. it was a hot day and we had been gardening for hours. the purchased plants had been potted, all the transplanting in the yard was done. it was that golden hour after all the work and before making dinner. we poured a bit of cool pinot grigio, took a tour around the yard and then settled into our adirondack chairs in the shady corner of our deck to gaze out at the yard – one of our favorite pastimes now.

the daisy path – as d has aptly named it – is slower. it doesn’t require the striding or racing around of earlier years. it is a – rather, The – sweet phase and we are trying our best to hone it. we never expect to perfect it, so we are doing everything we can to appreciate it, be grateful for it, honor it.

every night last week we sat on our patio or on our deck, just sitting. at the end of the day – after having dinner al fresco – we – truly – just sat.

and we talked. about anything, everything, nothing.

earlier in the day – on one of the days – i got ready to plant one last sweet potato vine. d had spray-painted a plastic pot and it was ready for the transplant and to be hung on the old ladder in the corner of the deck.

d asked me if he could get me a chair – as i have found that placing a chair on the patio next to the raised deck makes planting easier on my back. i thanked him and said that i was only planting this one pot.

but then i was struck by how generous this offer was. for in the middle of everything he was doing, he was concerned that it might be easier for me if i had a chair – as i had used while potting other days – and he was going to drop everything to go get me one if i wanted or needed it.

and so, it was then – one of those rare moments you remember – not because you don’t appreciate each other all the time, but because sometimes a very intentional wave of gratitude is easy for your brain to snapshot into your memory.

i walked over to where he was weeding the cracks in the patio and bent down. wrapping my arms around him, i told him how much his kindness meant to me. it wasn’t even a few seconds and dogga was there, right in the middle of our embrace, pushing his head up into the armwrap hug, his face even with ours, in the middle of so much love.

i whispered to d, “memorize it.”

of course.

we three stayed that way for at least a full minute, which is a long time for a busy aussie. it was a magical minute. definitely daisy-path stuff.

our old dogga stuck close for a bit more, to get kisses and pets and butt-butts. he didn’t see the tears welling up in our eyes as we committed it all to visual and visceral memory.

d went back to weeding and i potted the sweet potato vine and hung it on the ladder.

it seemed right that this sweet potato would keep vigil over our little corner on our deck. my sweet momma’s words, “live life, my sweet potato,” ring in my ears.

sweet potatoes and the daisy path. sunhats and glasses of wine, a checkered tablecloth and adirondack chairs. our dogga and a sanctuary of peace. love and gratitude.

the sweet phase, indeed.

*****

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

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waiting there. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it is with great anticipation that i wait for the peonies. it’s a long process, from the ground up. from the tiniest maroon sprouts to buds just waiting to burst furth into the world – it’s glorious and wonder-full, and each year now i am thrilled to see the arc of these beautiful blooms.

my son said something in a social media post the other day that really stopped me. i went back and listened again. and again. he said that music waits for you…it waits for you to “come to it on your timeline”…it waits for you to come back…”it waits to accept you, ready to understand you.” it’s “never gonna go away and it’s always going to be there for you.”

and in those words, he brought tears to my eyes. not only because what he was sharing in that post about himself was vulnerable, not only because part of what he was sharing made me very sad to hear. but because his joy in the journey back to music – his music – was so clearly buoying, so very triumphant, a mighty trajectory of his creating.

i’ve been turning on the salt lamp in my studio lately. it’s like i want it to stoke up good energy in there.

standing next to my piano, i held the crystal divinatory pendulum in my hand, thinking about what questions to ask it…understanding that my subconscious would likely dictate what the answers would be. there are times that one is not really sure of one’s own subconscious thoughts or biases, the ability to translate from desire or idea into reality, into do-ing. times when pain pushes aside artistry.

i purchased this pendulum in a cool hippie store in northport, my hometown. on purpose. i thought it was striking – even in its simplicity – but i also wanted to bring home a bit of the internal-intuitive-wisdom and lighthearted belief-in-the-universe i had lost in that place decades ago. in these days of falling back in love with that harbor town, i wanted ways to surround myself with what i remembered about myself from the olden days of being in love with that water, that sand, that place. twelve dollars wasn’t too much.

and so, the other day i took it out of the small suede bag and held it first in my hand, reminding it who i was. and then i held it up and asked it to show me yes – it circled around. i asked it to show me no – it moved in a straight line back and forth.

and in the following minutes i asked it – words to the effect because sharing my exact words is just a bit too much right now – whether i would return to the music that was waiting for me.

it was still and then – i suppose after accessing my heart, the wistful tendrils of hope, the very tentative wisps of maybe-it-can-be-so, it circled wildly.

i thanked it and quietly put it away, not wishing to go any further right then. it was enough. we’ll see. the arc is not closed. the peony is going to bloom.

“music…it’ll be waiting there, ya know,” my wise son said.

*****

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