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the path back is the path forward

Category Archives: DR thursday


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america. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we entered the tranquility of sand dune arch. we had passed by sandstone discs of giant proportion, climbing into a slot that took us into the almost-hidden area tucked between towering rock formations. and suddenly, we were in the midst of graceful lines of years gone by, of weather that had formed gentle arches, softly curved stone, a garden area like no other.

if there was a designated female arch, this must be the queen of them all. such beauty, color, sunlight playing off sweeping angles. it was stunning. and in here, taking in all of this, the temperature – that was soaring in the nineties – was cooler. this was a place of serenity, of peace, of revitalizing, of comfort. it was, no doubt, one of my favorite spots in all of arches national park.

without fear, d and i stepped into the slot at the back of this courtyard of red rock. we slid along the narrow passageway until fallen rocks blocked our path. we marveled at what seemed frozen in time but was in reality ever-shifting, never static. we were truly in wonder.

there was a certain camaraderie as we stepped out of these discs, out of this beautiful sand-rock-garden. we spoke to other people, all amazed by the sheer power of this place. there were no lines drawn, no differences, no fingers pointed. it was utter embracing of the moments we had experienced. we were all thrilled to have experienced the kind of beauty into which we had stepped. together we tried to come up with superlatives that even just began to describe this place.

this is the america i understand.

the appreciative, the generous, the together.

it was quite a while before i scrolled after that. not only because scrolling in the car is motion-sick-worthy, but because i wanted to stay immersed in all we had seen, i wanted to stay wrapped in the beauty of this land. driving in the car and staring out the window gave me tiny insights into new places that studying my phone – and missing it – would not have afforded me. i wanted to stay in the america that I understood.

but time – like these red rock formations and arches and hoodoos and canyons – does not stay still. time is fluid and, in due time, we were back at our airbnb and checking in on our phones was of the moment.

and then, i was astounded by what i saw and read. and now, i am astounded by what i see and read.

this is not the america i understand.

this place – with half this country supporting a presidential candidate full of hatred and fascist intention – is not deserving of this beauty we were witnessing. this place – with a party claiming to wish to make america great again – pushing people under water, drowning fought-for freedoms, amplifying extreme bigotry and xenophobia, annihilating the rights of women and of the LGBTQ community, eliminating the ideals of democracy. it is dangerous. it is utter madness.

this is not the america I understand.

there are 63 national parks and 429 national park sites in these united states. there are innumerable state parks and tribal park sites. we visited 5 national parks, one state park, one tribal property. merely the tip of the iceberg, as they say. the sheer number of people viewing these beautiful places demonstrated a love of this land – by so many.

so how can one stand in a place so glorious – in this country – and have such an ugly heart as to align with the fascist ideals of a madman who surrounds himself with the most evil?

i don’t understand.

america, we are at a crisis point.

all the beauty put together – from across all our land – from every national park, every state park, every tribal or historic site, every everyplace under the sun from sea to shining sea – will not rejuvenate our democracy if we lose it in this election.

and no graceful arch, no sandstone hoodoo, no soaring mountain or bottomless canyon, no rippling stream or rushing river or glassy lake, no sunlight or moonlight or bluebird sky day will be able to change that.

it is up to us. right now.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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to share this. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

if it were possible to feel like a pine tree, this would have been the day.

in the vastness of this bryce canyonland, we stood on the edge – like this pine tree – and gazed over an incredible expanse. it was not merely beautiful. it was beyond words.

and, once again, i felt it in my heart – that wobbly feeling you get when you realize – truly realize – how utterly small you are in all of thissssss.

we celebrate our anniversary today. there is so much more to explore. there are many more adventures to be had. there are more uphills and downhills. there are more learnings and experiences and times to hold.

and there are more moments like this – where we are reminded of the tiny morsels of being that we are and the sheer gratitude for the chance to be here, to share this.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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same moon. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i stood in the river.

years ago now. it was almost inky night, clear, a bit brisk but not windy. as i moved from the bank into the middle of the flow i noticed it. the moonline followed me…everywhere i went. despite all the time i had already spent at water’s edge and on the water, it was the first time – in my memory – that it became apparent to me – this moonbeam shadow of mine.

and i think of you – my love, my children, my family, dear friends – next to me or somewhere else in this world – looking at the night sky as well. this same moon. with your own personal moonbeam shadow. and i am heartened by our sharing of this. for if we are looking at the same moon, then certainly we are not too far from each other. under the same sky, the same stars, the same blanket of galaxy.

so as i stand on rocks next to lake michigan i am reassured by this season of the full moon. and as i think of you, i whisper along the beam, hoping that the moon will deliver you my words.

“…when the moon dances in your hair, i will be there…for all the days of your life, for all your life …” (kerri sherwood – for all your life)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

UNFETTERED. ©️ david robinson

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golden. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

“as we walk in fields of gold…” (gordon matthew sumner (sting) – fields of gold)

it is the grasses that thrive in our yard. the hostas have mostly yielded to the daylilies and the ferns have volunteered into a bigger garden out in the corner under the trees. the peonies hold their own – their blooms ever the sweetest. but the grasses – planted in our sandy soil near the lake – multiply and thrive.

were we to be dropped out of the galaxy into our yard, we would at least be able to identify the season – based on the ornamental grasses that grace our gardens. they are stalwart and enduring, coming back despite whatever is happening in our own universe, in the world. they are tuned to the sun and the moon and they set a high bar of appreciation for their renewal, their robust, their willowy feathered plumage, their verdant green in summer and this golden glow in fall.

we sit and gaze at these gardens of gold, particularly as dusk’s setting sun plays over them. we are smitten.

i am planting two new roots of peony, a generous gift from my sister-in-law. carefully we have decided where to place these tiny plant souls. they will flower in white blossoms, different blooms from each other. i will cluster them with one of our hot pink peonies – the one that hasn’t yet budded. and, hopefully, the grasses adjacent in the garden will keep an eye on these newcomers. we can gently plant, water and feed, be mindful of recommendations, but the garden will also tend itself and my sister-in-law has reassured me that peonies are so tough and hardy that they don’t necessarily need anything special. welcome words, as we are really neophytes at this.

there are many gardens with much more variety, that are more exquisite, more elegant, lavish, even opulent. yet, each time we come home – or finish our day on the deck or the patio – now that we have passed by the equinox and autumn is sweeping in on the departing wings of summer – i am grateful for these fields of gold in our yard. the steadfast spirit of these golden grasses aligns with us.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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more beautiful now. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we live by big water.

much the way we are drawn to the mountains, we are drawn to big water. more and more. both.

and more and more – each and every day – we are amazed. even by its ordinary. big and little ways.

diamonds have ridden the waves of lake michigan for all time. yet, each day further on the timeline of this life, they become more beautiful, more intense, sparklier.

the lyrics brought tears to both of our faces as we listened. susan had sent us a song, “you were beautiful then but you’re way more beautiful now.” (beautiful now – james maddock )

yes. yes, this is true. i have seen photographs of him younger. he looked a lot like david cassidy – that longer, feathered back hair, those eyes, that smile. he was – in every good use of the word (feminine or masculine) – beautiful. i didn’t know him back then. just like he didn’t know me in my midriff-hiphugger-bellbottom-wearing days. those days – well – those are the olden days.

but now is different. i look at his face and his eyes, his long hair peppered with grey – this man now – and i know – just like the song – he is way more beautiful now.

and so, for a bit, i wonder why the diamonds on the lake are more beautiful and why the sky is bluer and why the early morning air is breathtaking and why this man – sharing life with me for eleven years – is more beautiful now than he was then.

and i know that every single thing is.

it is impossible to hold onto the gossamer threads of these moments now. they fly by and next week i will feel like this week was eons ago. we are trying to hold them as we drift by in this sometimes-lazy-sometimes-raging river. they slip out of our hands, like trying to hold onto the river itself.

and everything – every single thing – has its own sparkle.

and we try to see that each day. we try to remember our very fragile place on the soil of this earth. we try to grok beauty in the simplest things and in the hardest things.

mostly, though, we can see it in each other and it reminds us. however beautiful he was before, he is way more beautiful now.

“from sleep i fall to waking” and morning – like time, in the way it keeps going and going – graces everything with shiny, shimmering glitter.

we look and – now – we can see it.

way more.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

EMBRACED NOW mixed media 48″ x 36″

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our promise to walter and irma. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i want to hold onto the sound. cicadas and crickets on summer nights. it’s a locating sound, and, as i adirondack-chair-sit on the deck listening, i am immersed in it. i can feel it.

we’ve been watching the series “alone” lately. our binges have taken us through to season five, where ten people have been dropped off in desolate mongolia to survive as long as they are able. the sounds are completely different – wolves are howling, deadly snakes hissing, bears rustling through the woods – unnerving sounds. it is beyond my wildest imagination what these people are doing, how they are assimilating into and feeling a part of this environment, how they are sustaining. i would absolutely fail out there.

it does make me think that – indeed – we all have our strengths. as we hiked the other day we talked about how fascinating it is to watch other people and the random abilities they’ve been blessed with. we are simply spokes on the wheel…a giant wheel of universe proportion.

i came across this cicada in our driveway. i was immediately saddened, for it was wandering in a circle and i knew it had little time left on this earth. its beautiful coloring, its giant alien eyes, it captivated me and i gently placed it into the bushes next to the driveway, offering a few words of gratitude for its existence.

one less cicada to sing its nightly song, i know that too soon the night will be quiet and i will miss the sounds i have always associated with the white noise of summer.

i woke up this morning to the sound of walter and irma in our backyard. these are two cardinals that frequent our feeder and hang out on the wires of the garden happy lights or on the top of the fence that stretches across the yard. they are as much a touchstone as our cicadas, but i know they will stay through the fall, through the winter and hopefully will cheerily greet the spring again next year. they have a hard time with our bird feeder because the rim is not big enough for them to perch upon – and because the squirrels do gymnastics emptying it.

we have promised walter and irma a flat feeder – the kind we understand that cardinals prefer. and every time walter flails around on the edge of our current birdfeeder, we imagine that irma is reminding him that someday we will have a different feeder, to hang in there and to stop being overly-dramatic.

i think that someday has arrived.

sometimes it is the simplest of things that bring us the most reassurance. somehow the loss of one more cicada makes me want us to extend to our backyard birds something that will make their ability to sustain a tiny bit easier. they are spokes on our wheel – giving us the grand pleasure of watching them, slowing us down, grounding us.

in the days that we feel like we are in the wilds of mongolia – for we all have days like that – we find things that bolster us, we find things that give us perspective, we find things that make us feel a part of the whole, we find ways to sustain.

i know i will soon miss the cicadas and crickets. i recorded their nightsong on a video and saved it. just in case – in the middle of winter or the wilds of mongolia – i need to feel it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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an upside. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i scoured the streets of san francisco looking for it. i had somehow lost the peace pendant my daughter gifted me – it fell off from around my neck and, as we moseyed away from the san fran moma and shopped, i suddenly realized it was gone. i immediately backtracked my steps, even knowing it was not likely i would find it. we all walked with our eyes peeled to the city streets.

as i stepped up onto a curb while crossing a busy street, i saw it. there, in the gutter of the road, lay the pewter peace sign and its chain. i felt a surge of relief finding it, for I truly do treasure the gifts my children have given me and, of course, you know how thready i am.

years ago, the kiddos made a shopping trip to target. together they picked out a tall bamboo vessel with golden and deep red-dyed dried reeds and gave it to me – a gift. it has – since then – continued to have a place in our home. now it stands in the bedroom, between the red and white gingham-checked recliner wing-chair and the jewelry armoire i purchased on marketplace, right in front of the window. in the morning, the sun streams in and sets the reeds aglow. and i think of my beloved children every single time.

i suppose i could be less thready, a tad bit less sentimental. it’s not likely, though.

i could take you on a walk through our house and yard. the stories would not be about the value of objects we have displayed or the name-brand of things we own. the stories would be narratives, tales of experiences we’ve had, of times with others, of things we’ve been gifted, of workarounds, of love delivered in a plant, a candle, a wine holder, hearts, peace signs, a rag-rugged love sculpture, a quilt, of history in a branch, an old table, a window frame, vintage suitcases.

when littlebabyscion had trouble last week – and we had a conversation – me and littlebabyscion – i asked it to hang around longer. and i fully expected it to listen, because i have basically personified that little vehicle since i purchased it. friends from all over wrote to ask how littlebabyscion was, because, well, they know. yeah, less thready is not likely.

this morning was intensely beautiful. with the sun starting to pour in the open windows and all the fans off for the moment – so no white noise – we could hear the birds, the gurgling pond, the airplane flying above. we sipped coffee and dogdog laid on the foot of the bed. there was nothing you could have done to have made it any better. feet tucked under the blankets – for it was still a little cool in the early morning – we were silent.

i memorized it and tucked it away.

that way, another day – when it’s cloudy outside or inside – i could pull it all back and remember, i could let that moment wrap around me once again.

thready has an upside.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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all creatures great and small. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

“all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small. all things wise and wonderful, ’twas god that made them all.” (cecil francis alexander/edwin george monk/george mcbeth mcphee)

the striking thing about this song – a hymn in the united methodist hymnal i played from for many years as a minister of music – is the use of the word all.

whatever deity you may subscribe to, whatever you call a greater power, whatever your heart-faith attaches to, all things count, all creatures great and small.

i glanced up while at the sink washing a few dishes. and there, on the white trim next to the window, was this katydid. she didn’t seem to feel in peril – and she wasn’t. my first reaction was surprise. my second reaction was wondering how to safely remove her and place her out in the garden, where she might find leaves or flowers to munch, maybe drink from a fallen raindrop.

“each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings. he made their glowing colors and. made their tiny wings.”

it is not our first inclination to eliminate that which is different, that – because of size difference – which is helpless. we try – in most cases – to help the tiniest find its way. this katydid was lost in our house and likely would not have survived if we hadn’t found it and if we weren’t helping it along. it somehow feels like the same story as us – here in the universe. we are but tiny specks of dust, floating, floating, in a galaxy of stars and planets, lost and found, lost and found.

“the purple headed mountains, the rivers running by, the sunset and the morning that brightens up the sky.”

it is up to us to take notice, to care for – across our land, around our world – the extraordinarily large and the astonishingly tiny.

we are all here together.

and i hope that if someday we are lost, someone will gently pick us up and carry us to the garden so that we, too, might munch on flowers, drink raindrops and breathe fresh air available to all creatures great and small.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

prayer of opposites 48” x 48”

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for the little things and the big things. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we drove home with the heat blasting and the windows open. all 263 miles.

we drove slower than usual – cruise control on – smiling at everyone who passed us as we toodled along in the right lane.

we stopped every hour.

each time, we raised the hood, set a timer, stretched our legs. we readied the old beach towel and the funnel, got out the big jug of coolant and waited till it was safe to open the radiator cap.

and littlebabyscion – with whom i had had a few conversations prior to getting on the road – hung in there.

each time we opened the radiator cap to reveal that the coolant level had not changed. the red coolant light – which had intermittently flashed at us numerous times on the way up north – causing great distress – never flashed at us on the the way home.

when we got off the interstate for the last eleven miles or so, i turned off the heat. and LBS dutifully and safely got us home. no flashing lights on the dashboard. no drop in the level of coolant in the radiator.

so it’s all a bit of a mystery – this curious and first-time problem – the flashing light, the seriously depleted coolant on our way up. i have a few theories and, frankly, i’m hoping they are correct, that our brilliant mechanic will concur. that would mean that nothing is really horribly wrong with LBS. and that would mean we can continue our journey together. 276,000 miles and beyond.

we – david and i – were seriously serious about staying in the calm-zone as we dealt with this car issue while on a little time away and, mostly, while driving home. though i, initially, was pretty upset about the potential problem that this could represent, my conversations with LBS were fervent and d and i were determined to stay in the zen-zone all the way home. taking the over-the-phone advice of our mechanic, knowing that our dear friends were not-too-far behind us and that 20 was waiting at home with dinner and ready to help in any way were all sources of infinite reassurance. that kind of support gives one confidence to keep going, to not immerse in worry, to just trust it all.

it’s been a long, long time since i have driven on an interstate with the windows wide open. it’s a noisy place. and yet, the kwik-trip, the fox river park, the giant truck stop all provided us with quieter places to stop, places to wait it out, places to be celebratory each time we opened LBS’ radiator cap and then packed it all back up and drove on for the next hour.

this was an in-the-lull lesson for us. any moments of upset were not helpful. instead, staying focused on the things we could do, the help we had been offered, the steadiness of this little xb – these all gave us the ability to stay in the moment and not lose the lull.

i’m not positive we would have passed the lull-test alone. we are infinitely grateful to have not felt alone. that is the power of community for each of us – this abundance of support. when we wouldn’t have normally asked for help, it was there anyway. we just need to remember it’s right there. for the little things and the big things.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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idris, richard, mark and ellsworth. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]o

we walked out of the parking garage and up the grassy hill to the path along the lakefront. a perfect day outside, we strolled as long as hunger allowed us and then we turned around, completely sated by art and fresh air, heading for the public market and bowls of gumbo at the fish market counter.

the idris khan exhibit “repeat after me” intrigued us. layers of digital repetition, scores of music sedimentarized into a single panel, stamped words superimposed on stamped words, scribbles on top of scribbles, it was surprising and fascinating. beautiful – seemingly blurry – images in larger-than-life scale, it felt an interesting statement of the concurrence of everything as it happens in this plane. in the collections of classic scores, words stood out to me: presto…poco rall (poco rallentando)…tempo markings…because he allowed them to be visible, i wondered if they were adjectives of his life then or just simply part of the music he was layering. i admonished myself then, aware of the overly analyzing curator mode to which i was succumbing. i remembered seeing christopher wool speak…the curator was going on and on about the psychological underpinnings of his work and he sloughed it all off – he was merely creating what he liked, what he felt he wished to express. art doesn’t always need to be analyzed – it is sometimes just your heart speaking out loud, on canvas, in image, in wet clay, in melody, in haunting harmony.

walking through this exhibit – from room too room- i was so aware of all the music books, sheets, scores in my own file cabinets. i kept thinking of ways i could incorporate all my collections into art pieces – for surely, there is little use for some of it otherwise and it will certainly go the way of recycling that millions of pages of music-on-paper have already. perhaps even an accent wall expanse papered with pages – the genius of composers gone before physically surrounding a studio space. the energy – sans the analysis.

idris khan called us. but, as always, *richard and mark and ellsworth* were there for us as well – steadfast and notoriously inspiring. we stopped by to say hello and they nodded the quintessential guy head-nod, barely discernible but a clear thank-you-for-always-stopping-by. we wouldn’t miss it.

we drove to have gumbo, hearts full and talking over each other about what we had seen. and then, the ride home was quieter, reflective and flush, revitalized.

*****

*favorites richard diebenkorn, mark rothko, ellsworth kelly

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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