reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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

spent. the at-least-ten-foot-tall sunflower by the library looks spent. but oh, no, it is not spent. the transience of its time – of time itself – is just the beginning of a new phase, a new purpose, a new cycle. its seeds perpetuate its enduring soul. it keeps on.

“i’ve spent the past fifteen hundred days working tirelessly toward a single goal – survival. and now that i’ve survived, i’m realizing i don’t know how to live.” (suleika jaouad)

and so, here in the little garden just outside our favored library in town, this sunflower is still in its glory. tall, stately, i still catch my breath to see it. alone, it towers above all else there.

today we will have irish stew and mashed potatoes for dinner. it is not a traditional big turkey extravaganza nor is it a gathering of many at our table on this day. but we two will sit – with candles and cloth napkins and steaming bowls and bread – and we will give thanks for each person in each of our phases who have helped us work toward survival, helped us with endurance, with purpose.

we will be grateful for the full table in our dining room just two weeks ago, our beloved children, with us. we will offer up thanks for the food we will eat, for each other, for cherished ones, for being together. we’ll likely chat about thanksgivings of our growing-up, tales of earlier grown-up thanksgivings, thanksgivings when – to their delight – our childrens’ dad did an early-morning turkey-dance with the turkey, thanksgivings when our parents did the traditional end-of-the-table carving.

and we’ll dream about thanksgivings to come when – hopefully – this nation will have come back to its senses, when it will lead with gratitude and appreciation for all its people and its wildly fantastic diversity. we’ll ponder when extended families might return to the holiday table together, in love and generosity, with compassion for each other and all the others, all schisms laid out forever to rest. we’ll wonder about the seeds of the soul of this day – thanksgiving – and the true honesty and heart behind the honest and heartfelt wish – “happy thanksgiving” – we’ve heard so many times this week before today.

we are reminded every day – by something or other – that we all don’t really know how to live. it goes beyond survival, beyond the giant yellow bloom on the ten foot tall stalk. it stands the transience of time and its soul of goodness endures, cycle after cycle.

it is not spent.

and we are grateful for another chance to keep on.

*****

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the babycat chair. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

this is called ‘the babycat chair’. though many would have disposed of it years ago, we held onto it…homage to our babycat.

for some reason, he chose this chair – and really, no others – well, to be accurate, he did have a bit of a relationship with the red gingham wingchair recliner in our bedroom. this was his to do with as he pleased, i guess.

babycat would just arbitrarily start scratching the back of this wicker chair. maybe it was when i hadn’t recently cut his dagger-nails, counting as i clipped – 1, 2, 3… – each paw a new 5-count, with his patience on the edge and his teeth locked around my hand holding him. treacherous stuff, but i knew i was in no peril. (though, in retrospect, as i look at this chair-destruction, i can see he was pretty capable of much peril, after all.)

when he’d start clawing the back of this chair, dogga would become instantly nervous, knowing instinctively that b-cat was ‘gonna get in trouble’. dogga would run over and push b-cat aside or pull him by the neck away from the chair entirely. the first time we saw him pulling the cat around the wood floor by his neck, we were totally scared and stopped him. but babycat would go back for more and the dog-pulling-the-cat-around-by-his-neck game would go on and on – for years and years – these two best friends playing and teasing each other.

we put a throw blanket on the chair – and a few pillows – to try and hide the missing wicker, hoping no one would fall through entirely if they chose to sit in the chair. it was really the back of the chair that was the worst – well, and the one side – but babycat had not clawed through the bottom, so this guest-ending-up-on-the-floor thing wasn’t really a big worry.

babycat died unexpectedly in march 2021 and took parts of our hearts with him. he had been with me (and then us) for about twelve years and was a true saving grace for me in his years. i’m not sure how i would have survived many of those years without his lumbering, hulking tuxedo-cat self keeping close to me. we still miss him. both of us. and, for dogga, it’s exponential. babycat was his bestest friend.

in these days of cleaning out, we (or i) have to keep making decisions about things that have threadiness written all over them. this chair has been one of them. do we keep it or do we move on?

knowing that many people are capable of fixing things or repurposing things or utilizing the materials of things, we placed the chair – after i did a photo shoot of it – at the curb. it is never more than a couple hours before someone picks up the things at the curb.

but no one picked up the chair. we talked about breaking it down and placing it in the trash. for perhaps, there was nothing really reusable about it.

in the end, we brought it back up the driveway. it is now at the top of the driveway, adjacent to the garage and the fence, next to the birdfeeder. we haven’t really talked about what’s next for it. but as we pass by on the way from the back door to littlebabyscion or big red, it always makes me smile.

the babycat chair lives on.

*****

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every falling leaf. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

in my son’s first year at lawrence university, i had the joy of visiting the campus fairly often. one of those times there was a comedian on campus and, along with a group of his friends, i went to her show.

it was fall 2011. tig notaro was about 40 then – though she looked way younger. i was 52 or so, not a heck of a lot older. following her bright career for a bit, it was difficult to see her deal with complicated and dangerous medical issues, the abrupt death of her mother, breast cancer, a double mastectomy, relationship breakup.

hundreds – maybe thousands – of shows in the growth of her success later, we watched her on anderson cooper’s – stunning – grief podcast all there is”.

we stumbled upon this just a few nights ago – after you-tube-ing the news until we could no longer take any more in. anderson was visiting with ken burns and the show was titled, “the half-life of grief is endless“. there is nothing like an honest, open conversation about mortality and loss to draw you in. i repeated the words aloud: “the half-life of grief is endless” before realizing that quote had been – aptly – chosen as the title of that episode.

it feels true – in my opinion. the half-life of grief IS endless. and in that space we inhabit – that space that loss always shields with an impermeable membrane – we find so much meaning, so much life, so much right-now.

though well-acquainted with loss of dear people around her, tig spoke specifically of the loss of her friend, poet andrea gibson. she described the feeling of andrea nearby her. she read bits of her poetry. anderson cried. i cried. i think d cried too.

i never could understand how – when my big brother died – the world could just go on. i wasn’t a child. i was 33 and pregnant with my second child. but i still couldn’t grok it, even as i had lost others in my life, even as I could cognitively understand it. it was a gut-punch, yet i could feel him – wayne – nearby. i could sense his humor, his brilliant mind.

in the love letter that andrea wrote to their fiancée, they wrote “dying is the opposite of leaving…” and in the same, their words, “ask me the altitude of heaven and i will answer ‘how tall are you?'”

i cannot hike in the woods without stopping. there is so much to take in, so much for which to gently hold space, so much to be grateful for. just to see it all…washes over all the grief and enlivens all the grief. both.

and then there is this: “every falling leaf is a tiny kite with a string too small to see, held by the part of me in charge of making beauty out of grief.” (andrea gibson)

*****

LAST I SAW YOU © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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my dandelion face. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it is tuesday. we just watched the press conference during which the sexual abuse survivors of the notorious epstein case spoke in support of releasing all the files – yet again. these women showed photographs of what they looked like at the age they were first groomed, molested, sexually abused and trafficked. on this cold november morning in the capitol city of our country, they once again pled for justice. because abuse is abuse and wrong is wrong. and this country should be sick to death of protecting the vile people who have taken part in this what-seems-eternal coverup of heinous crimes.

“they [epstein and maxwell] changed the trajectory of my life,” said one survivor as she described herself as a young woman, ready to step into her life, full of possibility – ‘before’.

yes. because grooming and sexual abuse and power and control and manipulation and the resulting devastation are suffocating. yes. because the trauma is all-encompassing – overarching – and is like glue stuck inside your body. yes. because this kind of devastation has tentacles that reach around and into survivors in all ways – emotionally, physically, relationally, professionally, spiritually, financially. yes. because when no one takes responsibility, when all who are culpable for this torturous takeover of your freedom of choice are not held accountable, it is spirit-crushing. yes. because it truly does change the trajectory of your life. yes. because ‘after’ is never the same as ‘before’.

but, these victim-survivors have courageously chosen to tell their truth and we are watching them rise to the beacon of light, look to the beacon of hope.

the hold of the past is slipping – even a smidge – and a tiny bit of healing is seeping in.

let’s hope that there is finally a moment when the rest of the power differential is broken, when morality and conscience and equality under the law take the lead, when survivors everywhere might find that justice is possible.

in the meanwhile – this interim period when we wait and watch and hold fast to the integrity of the truth – i – also a survivor of sexual abuse – will stand in the sun with them, my dandelion face rising above the darkness of predation and coverup.

*****

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66 and 19.

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blink-of-an-eye. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

in a really rare moment, we had the amazing chance to have our children and their partners gather around the dining room table with us. to say i was thrilled would be an absolute understatement. it had been six years since we had actually been together – my two children and us. it was a giant gift and i am grateful for it.

plates, pasta, wine, bread – all were merely props as i gazed around me, watching these beloved faces, listening to laughter and conversation. i tried hard to memorize all of it. these brilliant, creative seeds of tomorrow, bright lights of real humans, of good people.

the next day we hiked, just d and me, after everyone had left. we talked about our blink-of-an-eye time with our adult children, about the fun chaos in the kitchen the night before, about the teasing and the ribbing. and i found myself holding onto the filmy threads of each moment before they flew away.

the photographs will help, of course. they will be posted in our kitchen and i will pass by them, often looking at them and smiling. but inside, i will hold onto the way it all felt, the heart-stopping hunger i had felt longing for a moment together, the breath i could exhale as i sat at the same table with my children and their partners or as we all clustered together in photographs.

but i know i won’t be able to hold onto all of it. time tugs at memory like that.

and the clustered fluffs of seeds will be tugged out of the pod by gentle breezes and fierce winds. they will swirl about and land somewhere, planting. another milkweed.

and i hope there will be another table-sitting somewhere soon – all together – as these brilliant humans go about their all-grown-up lives, swirling about with gentle breezes and fierce winds at their backs.

*****

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who’s got time? [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“life hack: stop trying to be cool. be nerdy and obsessive about the things you love. enthusiasm will get you farther than indifference.” (posted on barkersounds IG)

this could possibly be my new mantra. nerdy and obsessive and (possibly overly) enthusiastic.

indifference slays me. the whole aloof, apathetic, flippant thing. all that gets under my skin, which is particularly sensitive to all the stuff on the opposite end of the spectrum from nerdy, obsessive about the things you love, and enthusiastic.

so that might explain the excessive photographs of barney, the old piano in our backyard, losing keys and structure in each season, its patina dusty wood. it might explain the innumerable pictures of breck – in every season – its leaves – budding in early spring through its golden age in autumn. it might explain why i take a zillion photos and generally completely annoy my adult children with my wish to capture them on film (well, “film” so to speak).

my sweet momma was a person who was also pretty nerdy and obsessive about the things she loved and, most definitely, enthusiastic. her “wowee!!!” goes down in history as a word she owned, and each of us knows we are referring to our beaky when we use that word.

life is short. that becomes more and more apparent as the years go flying by. the age spots on breck’s leaves are like the age spots i find on my own person. everything is fluid and keeps changing and the youth of our budding – like our aspen’s – is fleeting.

i can see no reason to not be nerdy. i can see no reason not to be obsessive about the things i love. and – yes – i can see no reason not to be ridiculously enthusiastic.

i mean, who’s got time for anything else?

*****

GRATEFUL © 2004 kerri sherwood

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snowed under. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

so it feels a bit like a continuation from tuesday’s post that i wrote on sunday, but here we are – on monday morning – waking up to a winter wonderland. it all feels kind of early, if you ask me. i mean, it’s only november 10th. but, somehow, in the middle of the night – in those wee hours when i laid awake – in the middle of a great dark hush outside – the kind of hush in which you would never have guessed what was happening – it was snowing. clearly, non-stop.

the sun is coming out now and the sky has that blue that only follows a big snow. crisp, unexpected, inches and inches of snow. since we live by the lake, we were pretty slammed by lake effect and a ruler shows that there are – truly – about 15 inches out there.

we are cozy in here, though. under a comforter and a quilt, sipping coffee, we feel beyond fortunate. we have had our simple breakfast and, even if we can’t get out later, we have leftover food for lunch and dinner. lucky.

what about those people without? there is nothing i can say that would be – in any way – polite language about an administration fighting to continue the cruelty of withholding monies for food. i cannot grok that kind of evil.

i’ve looked – a couple times – at d’s aca healthcare policy to see what his new premium will be. i am well aware that it – a premium already ridiculously expensive – will probably be triple. we also noted that his actual policy will no longer exist and the “comparable” policy that was suggested is one with – no surprise here! – higher deductibles, higher co-pays, a higher maximum out-of-pocket combined with less coverage and – the icing on the cake – zero out-of-network coverage at all.

and who is it that is against universal healthcare??

of course that doesn’t begin to address the violent removal of people that a bigoted administration has decided are not worthy of being here.

one nation, under god, with liberty and justice for all. uh-huh.

so many people – the populace of this country – struggling, desperately trying to stay healthy, to stay fed, to stay safe, to stay alive.

i would never have guessed – in the dark hush of this administration’s years and years of strategizing, scheming, conniving – what was happening, all of what they had planned for this country.

somehow, the siri of the universe seemed to think that we meant “snowed under” literally.

siri was right. both ways.

*****

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

it is rare that grocery shopping delivers such gloriousness. really, i would say, it is never. even though i celebrate the tiniest things – like a minimally-loaded cart that doesn’t add up to over $100. rare, like i said.

but on this day – walking out of woodmans market – into the early evening, ten minutes before 5pm on the first day post-time-change – we both stopped in our tracks.

there was another guy standing there as well – frozen – like when you used to play red-light-green-light-one-two-three as kids.

i instantly reached down and pulled the phone out of my purse, my eyes never leaving the stunningly radiant sky. we all oohed and ahhed together, incredulous at the sunset.

the horizon and the sun stared back, wondering at how this sunset was different than any other they performed.

and we…well…we remembered that – in addition to all the relationship woes this time of great division and angst brings – we could still stand with a stranger and acknowledge beauty that eclipses everything.

*****

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the vine knows. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

as autumn moves into full bloom, it is track-able on our westneighbor’s fence. the virginia creeper vine is fully immersed in the transition of seasons – producing berries for the birds, changing color day by day.

but there are fewer and fewer leaves now on the vine. dark is longer and colder and the cicadas and night crickets have ceased their song. in turning back the clock, there’s no turning back the clock.

and we head full-tilt into this season, knowing that winter’s lull will follow, that a time of fallow will start.

we blink back the wistful for summer, for early fall’s warmth as we head into the colder seasons. and we try to remember what we treasure about this next season, just six short weeks away.

with different eyes we look to the horizon of each day – changing our expectations, sorting to presence and appreciating each remaining leaf.

and soon the fence will be bare, save for the vining twigs.

but under the soil there is a gathering momentum of energy. and one of these days again – in the way that nature continues and continues – in the way that goodness goes on – it will burst open and we’ll see growth again. the vine knows.

in the meanwhile, we will wait and watch.

and hope.

*****

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what we are. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

“life is only a reflection of what we allow ourselves to see.” (trudy symeonakis vesotsky)

when i started my first teaching job – at a K-2 primary school in the poorest part of a county in florida – i found out quickly that the previous teacher had a favorite record album that she played over and over and over. i’m not sure how much music teaching she did, but i know that she played this record for every class, every day. it was a female artist’s album, one of her earliest. in those days her albums were all contemporary christian fixtures, full of praise songs, lyrics based on biblical messages and worship.

even back then – in this very first teaching job in the very first school – i knew that it was not appropriate to play this album ad nauseam like the students described their previous teacher doing. i was not teaching at a religious-based school; this was a public school and i had a different obligation to these children. it was most definitely not to foist christian music upon them.

in perusing social media i just saw rumors that there will be an “alternate” half-time show for the super bowl game, featuring two country artists who i thought knew better. in these times – in a world that draws strength from its diversity – it is unbelievably tone-deaf to think that we need an alternate quote-unquote “all-american” show and just the mere suggestion of what that definition likely means makes my stomach hurt. if we are to believe what we are reading in social media about this show, it is steeped in an incredibly narrow definition of faith and family and freedom – and what “all-american” actually is. it is painful to think of the people i know who will watch this – cheering – steeped in audacious narrowville.

i grew up going to church with my family. i spent 35 years as a minister of music in various christian churches across the country. never would i ever presume to foist christian music or philosophy – as a whole – upon this nation. never would i ever resort to the hateful rhetoric that is pieced – cherry-picked – from religious writings to justify disrespect of others, even ill-intended evil. never would i ever even begin to suggest that god – or any name you might choose to call a divine presence – would sort people into colors or ethnicities or genders or economic castes.

in the many, many years i spent in these buildings of faith – many of which, i learned, were disparately skewed to hypocrisy – i came to understand gandhi’s quote: “i like your christ, i do not like your christians. your christians are so unlike your christ.”

my own takeaway from a lifetime of work – if we allow ourselves to see the world as a tapestry of differences, respectful compassion, tolerances, a generous embracing, then we see in technicolor, our lives are beautiful and full of the possibility of growth and learning from others. if we allow ourselves to only see a one-dimensional homogeneous world, if that is all we tolerate, that is all we believe is worthy, then we are, as well, one-dimensional and our lives are limited in mediocrity.

if life is – truly – only a reflection of what we allow ourselves to see, i would hope for all to open their eyes. i would hope for all to see what they are espousing – or proselytizing – with their words or – complicitly – with their silence. i would hope that the reflection of reality – real truth – unobscured by agenda or any form of bigotry – would be what we all see so that we might deal with the ugliness of mushrooming propaganda and contempt.

we are our reflections.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

same photo – upside down

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