reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Category Archives: nature


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cammy. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

we commonly talk for our dogga. we talked for our babycat as well. we talk for wildlife in the woods. we talk for other drivers on the road. i talk for my toes. d talks for his knees. we pretty much animate anything.

including this veiled chameleon.

we rarely go to pet stores. but when we do go to a pet shop, it is with our hearts on our sleeves. this time the chameleon captured us.

i realize that he is being fed and watered (hopefully) properly and that his environment will be changed as he grows, but i couldn’t help but feel a sense of sadness as i watched him clawing at the glass of his terrarium.

as if he could understand what was happening in this chaotic world – sensing it perhaps – we stood with him, inches away, and interpreted the look on his face.

and in the strange way that all of us inhabitants of this earth somehow align, i was feelin’ it too. rejecting the idea that i was projecting my thoughts onto this small reptile, i told him that we were on the same page – with our shock, our dismay, our pointing fingers, our plea for a plan to make the chaos stop. we were one for these moments – cammy and me – and, in these same moments, i was reminded – once again – of how all the creatures – interconnected – human and critter – on this good earth could care about each other.

it’s been balmy the last couple days and we have been out on the trail, immersed in the beauty of the whole tapestry. i would bet that all of the people involved in the destruction of this country aren’t outside much. they have little to no perspective about how small they really are. somehow the almighty dollar has usurped any sense of camaraderie with the beings of the universe, somehow the climactic high of power has decimated their hearts and consciences. somehow they have lost it all while trying to seize it all.

we visited cammy again before we left the store. i whispered to him that i wouldn’t forget him. he whispered back the same. we exchanged a “what-now???” look that doubled as “get-me-outta-here”.

we walked toward the double doors that opened as we approached just as cammy went back to clawing the glass.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

there is something deeply rewarding about hiking on a snow-covered trail.

at any moment, you can turn around and see evidence of your having been there, evidence of your passing-through. there is no question. you have been there.

for us, the imprint of our hiking shoes meshed with a couple other boots, hoof prints of deer, tiny handprints of raccoons, the triangular prints of bunnies, the familiar prints of squirrels with a few dog paw prints and horseshoes. we had all passed by. separately. together. in community.

in the quietude of the snowscape, we pushed on a bit further. it had been a bit since we had been hiking outside – the weather was frigid and there were other things on our plate. but the peacefulness of the woods, the partially-frozen river, the familiar wind of the trail kept us going on this day.

though there is less variation in color on this winter’s day, there are innumerable textures and the fine differences in muted tones are peaceful, surrounding us in hushed comfort – like an old quilt – despite the cold wind.

this particular trail is an out-and-back. and so, we encountered our own footprints in every turn of the path on our way back. anyone hiking after us would wonder who had walked before, just as we wondered the same.

arriving at the trailhead and then littlebabyscion we were tired. but ever reminded that we each choose our path. we choose what to leave behind – our prints on the world – our existing – from the boots we wear to the care we have for all else on our path. we are cohabitants on this good earth. it is up to each of us us to sustain mutual respect in the all-too-finite.

there will be some evidence of our passing-through. it is my hope that what we leave – in the snow, in the dirt, in any wake we leave from our time here – will be as peaceful as this muted winter day on our trail.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

INSTRUMENT OF PEACE – mixed media 48″ x 91″

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the imperative of peace. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

dreamy.

many other adjectives came to mind to eloquently describe lake tahoe, but dreamy seems to fit the best right now.

in the way that sometimes happens with monumental beauty, i instantly felt a sense of peace descend over me…exactly what i needed.

for this has been a time. and i – like you – am filled to the brim, yearning for something different, something that builds up and does not tear down, something that is positive, filled with grace and not negative and filled with hatred. already, this is all exhausting. already, i am exhausted. we – all of us – have lost so much. and, though hopefully this will change – something will stop this destruction of our sea to shining sea – things will never be the same. betrayal has left its mark on us.

and so, the sight of this lake in the distance, as we approached, up close and personal, was balm for my spirit and i felt it wash over me.

some places are like that. you instantly feel a kinship with the vista, grounded by its simple, natural beauty. after all, this is merely mountains, forest and lake. nothing manufactured, nothing contrived, quietude with the potential for a tranquility that is so very powerful.

we do not live near this stunning landscape, but we do live in a landscape of our own. and i know that we must look to it for salve, for soothing us, for a balance of goodness against all the evil being perpetrated upon our country. clearly, we need to deal with the reality of what is happening here. clearly, we need to rejuvenate from the reality of what is happening here.

i think we need do that any which way we can.

there is a lot ahead of us. everything we have known is grotesquely distorted and people we have known have actively participated in that. it is the stuff of bad dreams. and we each are waking up to the horror of it all. as we brush the real-life nightmare from our eyes and wake to another day of fighting to keep our democracy, it is incumbent upon us to bring strength and resolve and a bit of peace from which we might draw these.

we will be looking everywhere we can for that peace, to join with it. it is an imperative.

“now he walks in quiet solitude the forests and the streams / seeking grace in every step he takes / his sight has turned inside himself to try and understand / the serenity of a clear blue mountain lake…” (john denver – rocky mountain high)

*****

PEACE © 2004 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

his name is guttah. he stands right off our deck, just yards away from the back door and the gutter overhead that started to ice-dam in perfect ice-damming conditions which necessitated use of the snow rake that pulled all the snow off the sunroom roof onto the deck and subsequently down onto the patio where it piled up and invited guttah to come to life. and so, there he is.

he looks a little stunned and i’m guessing he is. suddenly, he came out of d’s imagination and into the snow. suddenly, he got eyes of coal and sticks for a nose and mouth and arms and ornamental grass hair. suddenly, he is. pretty existential stuff.

we don’t know where guttah was before this. zooming around the universe in some jet stream, looking for a place to self-actualize, perhaps. we do know that his arrival prompted dogga to sniff and wonder. so that, in turn, has me wondering.

what does guttah see – here in this world of packed snow? what does guttah ponder as he stands there, looking a bit astounded? is he searching for meaning, for balance or healing in what he could see as he zoomed from non-existence into existence? or is he desperately looking for a way back to wherever he came from?

if i were a snowbeing that just arrived from the galaxy of ice crystals and snowflakes, i most certainly would be questioning the intention of bringing me to life. particularly right now.

but after perusing the contemporaneous news of my newfound home, after looking around, grokking all that is happening, i would be certain of the reason.

for i would recognize that my very existence had brought about a bit of giddiness, a little bit of laughter, many smiles, conversation, a fun photo shoot. my existence had made the day of ice-damming, another day of negative-news, the coming polar freeze just a bit easier.

and for that, i would stand in anyone’s yard, off their deck, on their patio or in their grass.

guttah will likely be around for a bit of time. windchills are going to be below zero for a few days, at least.

i have to say, he is a pretty adorable addition to the fam.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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and i will meet you there. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

we made our way up the mountain pass, snow-covered pines lining the sides of the two-lane, our road winding its way to the summit of mount rose. after the peak we started down the other side. and then, there it was – peeking through the trees in the distance – lake tahoe. “…so terrestrial yet so openly spiritual.” (john muir)

mountains make me cry. and the vision of lake tahoe nestled further off was sheer beauty. a place i’d never been before, i had anticipated its allure. but – even after traveling at 35000 feet over a large swath of our nation – gazing down on unspeakably gorgeous land – i was still stunned by the incredible breath of fresh air offered by the lake, this largest lake in our country.

“as it lay there with the shadows of the mountains brilliantly photographed upon its still surface i thought it must surely be the fairest picture the whole earth affords,” mark twain.

to say that we needed a breath of fresh air would be to totally understate what it has felt like to be in this country at this time.

it has been madness. like sitting on a rail while the freight train is barreling toward you with no real ability to control it.

how there is any one in these united states not feeling a sense of horror is beyond me. every single day there is new malfeasance. every single day more shocking news. every single day we see it all driving toward the authoritarian state that they wish it to be. yet, the people discounting it continue to discount it. and we continue to barrel toward the falls – in this case, the fall – poised to go over, plummeting to the death of all we know.

it was as we were flying i turned to d and said, “can you imagine the ego trip it must be for the two men in the powerful position of president to know that they are in charge of everyone? every single person we are flying over. every single person in every single corner of every single place in this entire country?” i shudder to think of how this feeds their agenda and how insatiable their hunger for all control, unstoppable.

i ran down to the boulders on the side of the lake and stared at the view, tears coming to my eyes. the pure air, the cold breeze off the water, the rustling of wind through the pine, the looming mountains…all so refreshing, rejuvenating, restorative. we walked on the beach at water’s edge and i didn’t want to leave it behind.

but lake tahoe – this lake that has been this glimmering jewel about two million years – through thick and thin, abundance and penury – whispered to me…“when you need a moment to ground your feet, to still your breath, to slow your wildly-beating heart, go inside and stand by my shore. and i will meet you there.”

*****

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

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where holy is. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i’m not sure that i can point to the moment when i realized – with every fibre – that the truly holiest moments were not the ones in buildings called churches.

it is a moment for which i am grateful, perspective-arranging and a welcome addition to my secular vocabulary – the word “holy”.

i spent many decades creating the atmosphere in churches where people might tune in to the emotional of faith – that which they could not palpably touch but which they could feel, they could intuit, they could impart to others. through music that i specifically chose – after research, after studying the narrative to be used, and after much listening and evaluating if a piece might touch hearts – open or closed – i shaped the music of services – the everyday and the special holidays, the celebrations of joining together and the inevitable release of people to the next dimension – to freely acknowledge spirit as it flowed and to try to gently grace others with it through music. to try and encourage an openness to the spirit that breathed into the place and maybe into them, into a place inside them where they needed the sweet assurance. whether i was aware if it did or not was not my only measure of success. providing the tenor of possibility and holding space for holy and their experience of holy was my job. there were moments when the last strains of a song or piece of music lingered in the air over the congregation, moments when a choir of singers, paused in a rest between notes sung with dedication and commitment to each other that you could almost see holy in the hush – the sun shining through, its rays touching each person. but over the course of these decades of time spent in these buildings, i was inordinately disappointed – even stunningly – time and again – by the hypocrisy to which i was privy. true faith is as true faith does, holy is as holy does, i was reminded, over and over. disillusionment was – and still is – a repeating theme.

out on the trail, as the clouded sun shined through the winter landscape and reflected onto the river, i could see – once again – how holy turns up in the purest of moments, the simplest, the least contrived. we have been gifted by the universe – and whatever deity we each individually feel or – perhaps – in which we might believe – with the extraordinary: a world full of beautiful.

beautiful is a descriptive word – easily understood as describing something of beauty. and that is all around us. the reaching of people to people in times of abundance and in times of need, kindness to and embracing of our neighbors despite differences, the love between any and all, regardless of anything, nature and its astonishments. our holy is all around us.

for those of you who are invoking your – supposed – religiosity to validate your vote – and your support – for the cruelest chaos that is this new administration, those of you who are spouting righteous religious drivel to prop up your bigotry, i would venture to say you may have missed the point. sheer hypocrisy has taken over your holy.

holy has not only left the building, but it has clearly left your soul.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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mostly sansevieria. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

our sansevieria is called “a perfect houseplant“. it doesn’t require much tending, much light, much water. it is hardy and healthy and has grown immensely since we brought it home, filling the window nook.

it makes me think of my sweet momma, since she is the one who first introduced me to sansevieria – the snake plant. she had several and called them by their scientific name.

our sansevieria seems unconcerned that it is referred to as an “old school succulent“. and, according to the miraclegro website, they are “almost comically easy to grow, so chances are you’ll encounter few problems with them.”

the other day d and i were talking about trends. neither of us is particularly trendy nor aware of the trending trends. we reminisced about growing up with parents who also weren’t trendy and didn’t try to keep up with pop culture. we wondered about whether that was a detriment but decided that it was likely helpful since staying on trend requires a financial investment and real-life artists are generally not in that sort of position.

i’m thinking that we are both sansevieria.

perhaps we all need to be succulent sansevieria. easy to care for, ruthlessly growing despite all odds. we need to be hardy and healthy, comically easy. maybe that will give us the strength we need to prevail through all the chaos and uncertainty we are experiencing.

the one thing that we don’t have in common with our snake plant? the part that reads “chances are you’ll encounter few problems with them.”

it’s our job as artists – and, let’s face it, as humans – to push back on cruelty, on injustice, on betrayal, on marginalization, on stupidity. so…you may encounter a few problems.

yeah, we’re mostly sansevieria. but definitely watch for a few prickly cactus spines thrown in for self-preservation and for the protection of others.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts D.R. THURSDAY

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eyes open. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

these days – even if you shut your eyes really tight – squeezing your eyelids so that you can see nothing – you cannot block it all out. i’ve tried. it doesn’t work.

like you, well – some of you – i am horrified by the fast and furious devastation – the epitome of meanness and ugliness cast upon us, upon this nation. there are no words to describe it all.

so i open my eyes instead.

and i look for things of beauty. anywhere. everywhere.

the sage green was a balm to the eyes in a landscape mostly brown. the folds of veiny leaves drew me to it – tiny crystals of dew glinting what little light there was on a drearily grey day.

the photo shoot wasn’t prolonged – only six photographs – but each one is somewhat dreamy – this fuzzy plant off-trail in the underbrush was stunning. i was glad to have noticed it. its presence gave me pause – to breathe.

this is the only way i’ll get through all this.

by keeping my eyes open to anything of beauty on or off trail. anything at all. anywhere. everywhere.

*****

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

 

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dogga’s squeakers. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

dogga has two favorite toys. one is candy cane and the other is snowman. we purchased both of them in december 2017 at festival grocery store – in a bin in the front of the store – each for $1. they are both squeaky toys. and they both still squeak.

this is pretty much a miracle. any other toy – particularly the stuffed ones – has lost its stuffing, lost its head (if it had one), lost all or most of the semblance of what it really is.

but candy cane and snowman have survived. neither have suffered even a nibble off their shape. dogga’s gentleness with these two treasured toys has been unparalleled. he carries these around with him, dropping them by his side in the kitchen or on the rug in the living room or on the bed. he never brings them outside, always dropping them inside by the back door, checking on them or picking them up again as he comes back inside. it would seem that he is protecting them – and their longevity is proof that he – the guardian of these plastic squeakers – has kept them intact. it is completely endearing.

perhaps there is a lesson to be learned.

perhaps we need hold gently that which or who are dear to us. perhaps we should wish to keep them close, to be soft with them, to not harm them or place them in harm’s way, to protect them, to make sure that they still squeak.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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a feather in the sky. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

though there was a feather in the sky

and i collect feathers

i had to leave it there – in the blue

to let it float

and land in someone else’s sunglasses

though there was a feather in the sky

and it granted me a wish

i do not know if it will be granted

before the wind carries it off

a wispy cirrus genie

though there was a feather in the sky

it is elusive and evanescent

i saw it – which made it real

but its fleeting quills were bending as i watched

and i saw all of its life pass by

as the feather lost its shape

and could no longer be a feather

for its soul was becoming the next thing

the wind morphing it, streams of vapor swirling

into perhaps a mountain or a unicorn

or something flat like a fallowed meadow

before it explodes into flowers

and then, no one will know that it was a feather

except i will

and now you

and so it counts

though there was a feather in the sky

and i collect feathers

i had to leave it there – in the blue

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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