reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Category Archives: goodness


by Leave a comment

whatever it is that calls me. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“whatever it is that calls us, that’s our path. and as we walk that path, we have a chance to shine forth who we are. it affects other people around us.” (richard bach)

we were talking about identity. in these later days, i have realized the nonsense of it all. in those striving-striding days of yore, younger versions of ourselves pushed for identity. we poked and prodded and molded and shaped and re-shaped our identity, pushing it out in front of us – as if to parade it, seeking validation. we – somehow in this society based so mightily on valuation – based our value on it. we let it rule us; we let it impact our decisions. we let it undermine our confidence. we let it stoke our egos. all of it.

and, suddenly, it all makes absolutely no sense.

so often, who we are falls prey to what we are.

he asked what we would do in retirement. i laughed. we’re already there. we’re doing it. it’s not a lot different than an artist’s path before retirement. it’s all-the-time.

we just are.

the path of artistry is not for the meek. it’s not a path of return-on-investment, for the investment of one’s heart far outweighs any yields, particularly in a society that underestimates its arts. it’s not a path of certainty, for scrappy is the only thing that is unquestionable. it’s not a path of sanctimony, for any sense of haughty righteousness must fall to the wayside of vulnerable creating. phony should not co-exist with authentic. caste should not co-exist with truthful art-making. all that pretense stuff – wrapped up in some version of identity in which one trembles when asked “what do you do?”

i’ll never forget a dinner i once attended, now years ago. seated in a fancy place with people i did not know, surrounded by those on ladder rungs i might not ever visit, i was asked that question, “what do you do?”

i answered that i was an artist…a recording artist….a composer…a singer-songwriter…a performer. the person – on that other rung – stared at me and gave a little laugh. “nooo, what do you REALLY do?” he asked.

i walk a path. i try my best to create. i try – not always successfully – to shine the truth of who i am, without bending or sacrificing the who of who i am. i try to affect others in a good way.

i know that there will be hundreds – likely, thousands – of cds with my name on them someday in some antique store. people will walk by and either give a quick second look or none at all. they won’t know who i was. they won’t know what i composed, the music i recorded and performed, the words i wrote. they won’t know what my voice – or even my laugh – sounded like.

but i will have walked a path that was mine alone. i will have joined hands with those i loved to walk alongside. i will have yearned and regretted and belly-laughed and wept. i will have realized that art – including music – is the answer to all the questions.

the deer prints will fade as the snow melts. it will be much the same for mine, i suppose.

were i able to go back to the linen-clothed table in the dining room of the country club, i should have looked evenly across the table and answered the guy who asked me what i really do, “whatever it is that calls me.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

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

he asked me as we hiked the river trail on christmas day. it was brisk, but we had warm coats and gloves, turtles and boots so we were cozy enough to be out there for a few hours. “what would you like to see in the new year?” he posed as we rounded the icy bend in the woods.

heidi and i had a phone chat. it wasn’t really long but she told me of a sentiment she received in a holiday greeting card. “may peace gently find you and fall upon your heart.”

we talked about how – instead of going out to seek peace – this wish she had received was one that simply – and gently – graced her with peace. we talked about how feeling peace fall upon you – like the softest snowflakes falling from a winter sky – would impact us.

and so, this.

peace.

in answer to d’s question on the trail, i listed all the things i would like to see resolved in the new year. i listed all the things i would like changed in the new year. i listed all the things i might really want in the new year – to do, to accomplish, to try, to find. i could have also listed things that might make this a better world. i could have also listed things that might bring balance back into people’s lives. i could have also listed things that might make people conscious, compassionate, moral, in their right mind again.

and peace.

there are only two more days left of this year, three if you count today. i wonder what i might do with these days as i approach next year.

i wonder what i might let go of in order to allow space for peace to find me. i wonder what i might reflect on in order to feel peace falling upon my heart. i wonder what i might commit to in order to hold that peace close, to let it simmer and grow.

*****

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

countless stars. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the way back north – though we would have lingered on and on save for our sweet older dogga at home waiting – was beautiful. we knew it would be; we have taken these back roads every single time we drive to chicago. following the lakefront, through little towns and along ravines, the holiday lights on our way home – in the dark with full hearts – are always magical.

to sit and spend any time with your grown children and their partners is always a gift. some people are privy to that all the time – fortunate to live in the same town or very close by, fortunate to have time together often. others of us have less time together; proximity can be challenging, so the time together with them is treasured and exponentially valued. we are always grateful to have that time.

earlier this week we had a chance to be with our son and his boyfriend. we brought all the makings for a thai chicken soup, our son’s requested “christmas lunch”. we gathered for photographs by the christmas tree and visited in the kitchen while we cooked. hearing their recent adventures, their thoughts, their latest dreams, hugging them in real life – it’s truly the stuff that this holiday is made of.

i remember the day after christmas from growing-up times. it was a day that was kind of the denouement of the season. it was a slow day, a reflection of what all had transpired, a review of it all.

we kept all the decorations up for a while back then. i don’t remember taking them down as a child. this year i think we will keep them up a bit as well…keep the light going. the trees add warmth to the cold of this season, particularly at this corrosive time in our nation.

he said that he hadn’t had his chance to put the star on the tree before he was no longer welcome. but this year it was HIS home, HIS tree, HIS star. and he owned the very-important-moment of placing his own star on his own tree, undeterred by disrespect of him or biased bigotry. it made me cry.

no longer welcome. holding a ‘welcome’ ransom is as absurd and cruel as holding the star ransom. in the christmas story, the star represents the celestial guide to the manger. but, more so, it represents light in the darkness, hope, the arrival of love. love…that which should level the field for all, that which grants grace, reminds us of compassion and inclusion, of unity, of hand-in-hand support of one another.

on the way home we talked about the lights on people’s houses, in their yards, inside their open front windows. we talked about multi-colored lights vs white lights and our own interpretation of these.

although we both grew up with multi-colored-light-families, we both always choose white lights. for me, that simplicity is part of the season. for me, it’s like a thousand stars, constellations of beacons in the darkness, of hope, of love. white lights bring the galaxies of the universe inside.

this day-after-christmas will be slow. it will be a day of reflection and rest.

and it will be time to continue to keep the happy lights lit, countless stars surrounding us.

*****

TIME TOGETHER © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES – including Christmas albums

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

intend light. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the pitter-patter of dogga’s feet is what will wake us this morning. he has no awareness that it is christmas morning, no concern about santa claus or light or manger scenes or presents or even non-stop holiday music radio. he just wants us to wake up, to turn the coffee on, to feed him breakfast, to let him out. his routine is the same every day – every single day. it is most definitely an aussie thing, even over and above being a dog-thing.

and we’ll sit under the quilt and the comforter and sip coffee, leaning back against a pile of pillows, watching as the sun rises in the sky out our windows. the skinnytree will be lit in the sitting room off our room so that we can gaze at the happy lights in the dark room as we talk, with dogga curled on the bed at our feet.

when d goes to make breakfast, i will sit and ponder previous christmas mornings, thinking about our daughter and son when they were little, when they dove into the bed trying to wake us, to convince us to open the louvered doors into the living room where we could see if santa had actually come to our house. and then, as the years started to go by, we would wait for them to wake up, to stumble with pjs and maybe blankets, to open stockings first, to rip into brightly-wrapped gifts and hear the glee of such a morning.

it’s quiet here today. all the happy lights will be lit, the trees gleaming, the music playing. we’ll cook and eat heartily, go for a hike in the woods. hopefully we will talk – even briefly – to our girl and boy and perhaps a few other calls. maybe we’ll play rummikub. maybe we’ll have a bonfire out back. maybe we’ll sing at my piano. it will be our intention to have a day of light.

in the midst of everything – everything – going on with us, around us and in concentric circles that widen out to include our community, our nation, our world, we will continue to intend light.

because – ultimately – “goodness is stronger than evil. love is stronger than hate.” (desmond tutu)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

like. share. subscribe. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

now more than ever. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it’s a week ahead of christmas as i write this.

in earlier years – for decades – i would have been consumed with shaping advent and christmas services, designing music that lifts the story of this holiday, that spreads the message of love, of light, of the season.

it’s been a bunch of years now that I haven’t been a minister of music and i trust that each church i’ve served before will again have ringing of handbells, choirs in harmony, cantatas with wonderful narrative, pipe organ music reflective of this time of light…perhaps even a ukulele band strumming some favorite carols. i hope that the music programs i started in churches in new york, florida, wisconsin all have grown and that they carry on in the same spirit of joy i brought. it is different to not direct, but the space allows for introspection and reflection.

several years ago – as a piece for one of the cantatas i composed or arranged – i wrote the song “you’re here”. as i listen to my own song – recorded as i sang it at a piano into my phone – these lyrics: and now, you’re here, in a world of hypocrisy and your love can heal us all…”

and it occurs to me that we are all mary – holding space for love, for light, for hope. even outside a tradition that celebrates christmas or hanukkah or any other specifically religious holiday – it is love – period – that can heal us. OUR love. love for one another, love for equality, love for goodwill, love for kindness. it is holding up compassion, concern, tenderness, empathy. it is recognizing brokenness and despair. it is valuing humanity itself and leading with heart and generosity.

in this season, i have found myself humming another of my own personal favorites: hope was born this night.

i hope so.

in each of us.

we need it now more than ever.

merry christmas.

alleluia.

*****

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

so much. so little. so fast. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

though i haven’t worn them out-out yet, i have new boots. with a rubber outer, they will keep my feet dry and, hopefully, warm. as i write this – ahead of the calendar – i’m not sure what i am saving them for or why i am saving them – it is a quirk – this save-it-for-good-thing – i’d like to give away at some point – but, since it is still mine, i am still saving them – at least at the time of this writing (way ahead of today).

it seems it will be a white christmas. at least partially, with bits of snow. though it has warmed up a tad since the polar vortex came through, there are still the ever-present piles of snow in parking lots and along the edges of daily living.

so far, we haven’t walked in the snow as much this year as in past years. i’m guessing the combo-platter of the frigid temperatures and the fact that we have been consumed with – guess – yes! – ice-damming have taken the zeal out of our zealous hiking-in-the-snow. i am hoping that more mild temperatures both melt the rest of the ice and rejuvenate our outdoor juju.

last weekend – when the vortex was at its most vort – we stayed in. we wrote, we researched, we read, we decorated, we made soup, we overplayed george winston’s december and hans christian’s door county christmas albums, and we watched the denver broncos squeak past the pack. it was – frankly – too cold to go out. plus, big red had just gotten home from its new fuel-pump-installation and we were less than anxious to test it or our confidence about not having to wait for yet another tow truck. littlebabyscion was way too pleased about staying in the driveway so that iced the cake on staying in, so to speak.

and as i went up and down the stairs, picking through holiday decorations and sorting through stuff, i fell into the unavoidable review of time and life.

the viewmaster of my mind’s eye threw me back: into ice storms and nor’easters on long island, crab meadow beach in the snow, footie pajamas, my parents’ living room, the den fireplace and my growing-up family, eggnog and krumkake, midnight christmas services, caroling, luminaria around our block, open-one-present-christmas-eve, christmas in florida for a few years, arriving in december ’88 wisconsin without a winter coat, being warmly-adopted by linda and bill, our tiny babies, christmas cantatas, a donkey in the church, christmas tree lots, sewing and crafting presents, plates of cookies for santa, 3am gift-wrapping, running the videocamera on christmas morning, wrapping paper and boxes in the fireplace after chopper-dog tore them all up, toddler stocking glee, noisy morning-of mayhem, recording christmas albums in NYC, shipping gifts, shipping albums, concerts, christmas eve brats, choirs, teenagers, santa-lists, cranberry-orange relish, greenbeancasserole, too many decorations, non-stop christmas radio, and then – christmas-tree-on-a-stick, tiny trees, happy lights, more cantatas, more choirs, ukulele carols, more pipe organ, turkey roulade, luminaria and bonfires, more shipping, facetime, quieter mornings-of. and so many other things mixed in.

it has seemed to be a time of some review, a time of serious thought, pondering and ruminating, wistful rising every so often.

looking back – far and near – the long view and what-seems-merely-seconds-ago – and i step into an array of emotions that change like iridescent bubbles in the sun. held by all the memories of before, i glance in front of me, in front of us. i look forward to what’s next – even to this holiday when we are just the two of us on the morning-of, when our grown children celebrate elsewhere, happy for them they are with their dad and stepmom on this day.

if we take a walk – and if there is snow – i will turn around and photograph our prints – steps at a time we have discovered is fluid like all the rest.

the world isn’t stopping. the axis keeps spinning. the moments arrive and then quickly disappear into the eddy of our memory bank.

there’s just so much. there’s just so little. it’s all sooo fast.

good is now.

yep. i’m just gonna wear the damn boots.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

galaxy-size snowflakes. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“you keep worrying you’re taking up too much space. i wish you’d let yourself be the milky way.” (andrea gibson)

i don’t believe that snowflakes worry as they fall from the sky. i don’t believe that they have any concern for whether they will fit or whether they will fit in.i don’t believe that they are self-conscious or self-doubting or – even – self-aware. they just are.

they form, they float, they land where they may. and then, they just are.

it is clear to me that we do not occupy such a singularly thin space of reality or consciousness. but were we to, it would simplify matters. we would form and float and land and be.

and perhaps that would mean that we would each bring all of us to the space into which we landed. we wouldn’t bring limited or limiting notions of mattering. we wouldn’t bring devices or attitudes measuring importance or gauging hierarchal places of belonging. we wouldn’t bring open hatred or cruelty. we would just land…into a community of other snowflakes, gathered and scattered, all beautiful, and unique.

maybe it would mean that no one of us would feel compelled to rule the space, to take over the place where the snowflakes gathered. maybe it would mean that no one of us would feel like they were more a snowflake than the next snowflake. maybe it would mean that each of us would feel that we count. maybe it would mean that each of us would feel like we are important – galaxy-size-important – even in the middle of all the other snowflakes. each one of us. maybe that kind of valuing could save the world.

every snowflake. they accumulated on the adirondack chairs we left outside in the just-in-case there might be another warm enough day to sit outside or to be by the firepit. i didn’t brush them off. there was something compelling about seeing them – this tiny community of snowflakes – something that drove me to study it, really look at how they scattered onto the surface.

it would seem that – indeed – these snowflakes let themselves fly. unconcerned, undeterred by anything else, i imagine they each – in all their glory – made like they were as big as the milky way and – in all their grand single-snowflake-power – floated and twirled their way down to the very important space that would be theirs. and no one stopped them.

and then, there they were.

tiny individual flakes. taking up all the space.

and they stayed there. waiting for the next snowfall – when they would hear the laughter and joy of the next batch of flakes as they fell, glistening and swirling like diamonds from clouds.

perhaps we are too noisy to hear such glee, to believe in such magic.

*****

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL © 1996 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

bins and boxes. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the list keeps getting longer. more items to offer to others, more to sell, more to simply dispose of.

i have been the recipient of many hand-me-downs. now, mind you, we use – or repurpose – many of these hand-me-downs….remember, we are the people with the almond 1970s sears kenmore range in our kitchen. still.

because i love numbers, i recently realized that when you add the ages of our three vehicles up right now – this year – in the year 2025 – they add up to 100 years. now, that’s pretty doggone amazing. granted, our little vw bug is included, but if you take that one out, the other two still add up to a whopping 46 years. eh. i digress.

i keep referring back to my sentimental-people-trying-to-divest-of-their-stufffff book. it’s essential self-help material, particularly at a time when we are truly paring down. it helps to read that you don’t have to keep a gift forever – you are not indebted to the gifter in a forever way. and, even if you give some gift away, the sentiment remains. common sense stuff, but not when you are lost in the memories and angst of what to do with the antique relics in a bin or a box.

and so – the box with decorator hanging plates.

i am most definitely not a hanging-plate girl. though they are beautiful, their self-actualization of hanging-on-the-wall will never occur because of me.

we photographed them all the other day, carefully placing them on a black cloth on the table, taking care to avoid glare, turning them over for markings on the back, photographing any written certificates of authenticity that accompany them.

we got through the marketed plates and i have no reticence about listing those for sale – granted, at a low selling price, for the time of hanging-plate-popularity is well past. then we got to the family-handed-down ones. the ones with initials on the back or years (like 1917 or 1930). the ones with sticky notes that my sweet momma wrote, describing the origin of the plate or how it had been passed down. ugh. these are the ones that invoke guilt.

there is one that i will keep. it’s hand-painted, floral, dated 1930, with a hand-threaded wire for hanging, leaving the delicious mystery of who initially placed it there. other plates, however, would only be stored – and that is what i am trying to avoid: long-term storage. and so, i suspect i will offer them to others, perhaps sell the ones that are not family-member-painted or have distinct family connections. it’s a bit stressful. but i keep reminding myself…they are plates, for goodness sake. it isn’t actual DNA strands i am giving away or selling. sheesh. (back to the book!!!! stat!!!)

and then i’ll be moving on to the punchbowl and the old spinning wheel, a plethora of milk glass vases, too many hobnail pieces to ever use, 1970s-1990s sewing patterns.

the thing about all this going-through that is helpful? the fact that i don’t think much about the state of THINGS while i open bins and boxes and sort and photograph and ponder what to do.

the history of these objects – such treasured items in their day and even now – is forefront in my mind.

it is often the handwritten note by my mom that is more difficult than the object itself. everyone has their own line – i’ll never forget when a sibling threw away years and years of my momma’s calendars. as a calendar-girl, i was devastated to hear this. i would so prefer to read my sweet mom’s calendars and notes she jotted on them than have any piece of furniture or jewelry or painted plate. like i said, we all have different value sets.

and so i puzzle how to properly respect these artifacts i am unearthing – particularly some more obviously family-connected – but dates like 1917 on the back of a plate – a scalloped limoges porcelain plate handpainted in soft blue and green hues – forget-me-nots – in the same year as the united states entered the First World War – in order that the world would be made safe for democracy – these dates, the history of such pieces fast-forwards my thinking to today, catapults me back into what is happening now. i cannot help but travel through the history of this country as i unwrap that which is in the plastic bin.

THE BOOK reminds me that no longer having an object does not disconnect one from its meaning, its emotional value, its gifter or pass-it-down-er. all of that – the true worth – is still valid, still present. nevertheless, i take my time and consider carefully the options of parting with something.

which makes me think: what if this country would stand by its values, its rights and freedoms, its constitution with the same level of respectful restraint? what if this country – and its leaders – would consider carefully the options of parting with the very somethings that have made it a republic, a democracy? what if this country would value handing down to our children and their children and so forth the best of what we can all be?

what will the trinkets and artifacts of this very era conjure up in future generations as they open the bins and boxes left for them?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by Leave a comment

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

“the more we focus on the good, the more good will circulate.” (carl blanchet)

it would be easy – outside on an extension ladder at 2:00 am – in ten degrees – hauling plastic decanters of hot water up and down – pouring it on a frozen gutter that has been melting into the house – to get crabby, to focus on the negative.

it would be easy – with blow dryer in hand, plastic spatula, rubber mallet and many loads of towels in and out of the washer and dryer – de-icing interior windowsills and windows from the ice-damming above – preventing any further accumulation – to get crabby, to focus on the negative.

it would be easy – as we keep revisiting and dealing with the ice-damming – day after day – for the conditions continue to be ripe with icing – to get crabby, to focus on the negative.

it would be easy – sitting in the parking lot – our truck broken down – big red’s hood up for all to see (including our neighbor who happened to park next to us but pretended not to see us – yikes) – waiting for a tow truck for five hours in less-than-twenty-actual-degree weather – to get crabby, to focus on the negative.

it would be easy – getting summoned for jury duty – at a time when the courts are unconscionably questionable – when the supremes are throwing out constitutional law – when none of us are assured the rights and privileges of this democracy – to sit in the jury room surrounded by over a hundred others – that waiting place – waiting, waiting – to get crabby, to focus on the negative.

but then we wouldn’t have considered the good. for the good that has happened, the good we have witnessed, the good we personally have been privy to – even over the last couple weeks – that good has far outweighed anything that should make us crabby.

the good of strangers, friends, neighbors – trying to help or helping…the good of professionals generously doing their job…the good of circumstances for which we are grateful…the good of the simplest things…the good of waking up.

truly, as carl blanchet backpacks the pacific crest trail for the second time, his focus is on all the good he has encountered. his message is clear – he believes that focus will circulate more good. and i have to say i agree.

for even in these current times – in this current climate – in this country as it currently is – in divided families, divided neighbors, divided communities – we must do the best we can to recognize every morsel of good, to appreciate every bit of good extended to us, to bring good, to pass good on.

there is only one way to get through all the challenges we each face on a daily basis, not to mention the seemingly insurmountable challenges we are facing as the united states of america.

and that is for ruthless goodness to circulate, for each of us to be ruthlessly kind.

to – without hesitation – trump the bad with good.

*****

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.


by 1 Comment

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

“know then that the body is merely a garment. go seek the wearer, not the cloak.” (rumi)

and the babycat chair – cloaked in snow – shielded all from the view of its real soul. its new trapping hides its decrepit wickered weave. one would not know not to sit – certainly not to sit back – with snow covering this seat, this chairback. the babycat chair’s garment of white belies what is truly there.

and yet, this chair – the other day – seated a squirrel or two. as i watched out the window, they took turns sitting, munching on something i could not identify, comfortable squatting on this handy seat.

i – like you – have known plenty of people who have cloaked themselves in all the trends, who have kept up in fashion, who dress for the time and continually refresh their wardrobe. indeed, they look fabulous and, like just wearing the right couture, their vehicles and homes and sundries are all cloaked in that same shiny wrap. with some, it might be hard to gauge what is truly inside, what soul is silent, what soul is loud. we may not know but we are entranced by the packaging, the masking, the shell – that which is superficial, evanescent, transient.

the spirit of the babycat chair carries on, with or without snow. its aging – like the aging of barney-the-old-piano in our backyard – lifts up the unchanging truth that aging is not negotiable.

we – inside our cloaks – whatever they might be – transcend the broken wicker of what we put on to cover who we are. like the babycat chair – but exponentially – the spirit of what we mean, what we have meant, remains.

what do we each choose that to be, individually, in community, in this world?

*****

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.