reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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in the times i remember. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

in my mind’s eye i am sitting cross-legged on my growing-up front lawn. i am laying in a big field in the park. i am perched on the curb.

i am making clover chains.

back then – in simpler times – times with less awareness – times of innocence – i don’t think i noticed the complexity. i didn’t notice just how many tiny white flowers made up this one clover flower. i didn’t pay attention to the spectacular joining together of all these, the softest pale pink dusting, the clustering of beautiful rolled petals with green sheaths and raspberry-colored stems. I didn’t notice the clover flowers that were not spherical, for those were not conducive to chaining a necklace.

but now – now, i am smitten with the one sweet white clover flower. i am taken by the complicated and amazing make-up of this tiny blossom. i am overwhelmed by the exquisiteness of this singular beauty – in the midst of so, so, so many others – everywhere – in fields and fields of green clover.

i feel reminded…to be like the sweet grandson of our dear friends – who, with a large magnifying glass, studies the world to which he has access, aiming down at the ground to see leaves and bugs and flowers.

in the times i remember, i am holding a magnifying glass and i am looking at all the world to which i have access.

in the times i remember, i am seeing the tiniest things – the black swallowtail butterfly that dips over our yard – the caterpillar that consumed our dill swinging by to express a gratitude. or the bee on the wilting coneflower. or the hues of all the flowers in the meadow.

in the times i remember, i am immersing in the simplest things – the moments in the kitchen next to each other sous-chef-ing the ingredients for our tabouli: basil, parsley, mint, cucumbers, tomatoes, scallions, garlic – each rich in fragrance and texture. or washing and drying the dishes – by hand – together, ritual we sometimes practice at the end of the day.

in the times i remember, i am amazed by the sweet potato that grew pink shoots while in the stairwell basket. or the two tall cactus growing in the tiniest clay pot; neither suffering from so little dirt.

in the times i remember, the swell of the strings, the yearning of the low brass, the plaintive cello, the space between the notes, the sound of dogga clicking-clacking down the hall to us – all bring me to the right now, all-consume me.

in the times i remember, the white clover evokes visceral memories of flower necklaces, grassy conversations, few expectations.

in the times i remember, i feel just the moment at hand.

*****

we are trying to regroup, rethink and refocus our melange blogpost writing a bit. we – like you – know what is really happening in our world and do not need one more person – including ourselves – telling us the details of this saddest of descents destroying democracy and humanity. though we know our effort will not be 100% successful – for there is sooo much to bemoan in these everydays – we have decided to try and lean into another way – to instead write about WHAT ELSE IS REAL. this will not negate negativity, but we hope that it will help prescribe presence as antidote and balm for our collective weariness. xoxo, kerri & david.

*****

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

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

i could imagine it. dill roasted potatoes. dill on salmon. dill pasta salad. dill in pesto. dill risotto. tzatziki sauce. deviled eggs. the recipes are endless.

so we added dill to the potting stand. a big clay pot with good dirt and lots of sun and a splendid watering wand. and it grew and grew…into a dill tree with lovely willowy branches and fragrance that inspired. until it was ridiculously rainy, ridiculously hot, ridiculously sunny and then – pushing back on the stuff i didn’t know about dill – my dill-ignorance – the dill bolted.

i diligently clipped off the bolting parts, hoping that would suffice – that the dill would forget and resume its normal-growing-program. but – once bolted, always bolted.

so when i saw the tiny caterpillars on a sunday on the dill, i kind of smiled. it made me a little bit happy that they – these half-inch long critters – were munching on this plant.

imagine my surprise when i saw these hefty caterpillars on friday, merely five days later. these are some serious black swallowtail caterpillars. with such quick lifecycles and growth, i am now looking for the chrysalises (yes, i looked up the plural form).

i’ve given over to them. the bolting dill will no longer focus on producing leaves and so my time as a homegrown-dill chef is over for now. next time, i will know to move the dill to a shadier spot, for our potting stand does receive full sun much of the time. next time, i will be more alert, more responsive, more informed.

but for now – well, our $3.98 dill is strictly to support the lives of these two caterpillars and their transformation into butterflies (and maybe others i am unaware of as well). a worthy sacrifice. and one of these days, when i see a couple black butterflies dipping and sailing over our backyard, i will know that we were part of their metamorphosis.

and i’m thinking that $3.98 is not too big a price to pay to witness – and be reminded of – rebirth, new beginnings, positive change and hope, new chapters in life. it’s not too big a price to pay to witness the magic of flight. it’s not too big a price to pay for two happy caterpillars.

*****

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

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it’s not that hard. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

we came upon the bird while walking on the waterfront a town south in illinois. because it didn’t fly away as we approached, we became concerned. i knelt down in front of it – not touching it – to see if it was hurt. and then – because it is the thing to do – i google-imaged it.

this tiny bird was a starling. a juvenile. even likely, a fledgling. this darling little bird just stood its ground, tentatively trusting us, shifting its position, turning around, spreading its wings, tweeting silently with its beak. but nothing seemed wrong and our research pointed to a tired little bird learning to fly just stoking up a little energy. so we walked on, knowing that we would check on it just a bit later to see if it had flown off. we also knew that if it hadn’t – if it was still on the boardwalk – we would carefully take it to a bird sanctuary. we worried aloud during the rest of our walk until we got back to the same spot and the little starling had flown off.

it’s not really all that hard to love. because, well, love is love – as the saying goes.

it’s not really all that hard to care about peoples’ well-being – even if you don’t know them – to care about creatures’ well-being – even if they are wild – to care about the world’s well-being – even if you have not seen much of it. because love is love.

i am reminded – time and again – of the poem prayer written by belleruth naparstek:

“just give me this: a rinsing out, a cleansing free of all my smaller striving so i can be the class act god intended, true to my purpose, all my energy aligned behind my deepest intention.

and just this: a quieting down, a clearing away of internal ruckus, so i can hear the huge stillness in my heart, and feel how i pulse with all creation, part and parcel of your great singing ocean.

and this too: a willingness to notice and forgive the myriad times i fall short, forgetting who i really am, what i really belong to.

so i can start over, fresh and clean, like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun, my heart pierced with gratitude.”

every day. another chance to be billowing sheets.

*****

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

 

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

i didn’t pick up the feather. i have many feathers, so this is rather unusual, but i left it there. i wanted others to see it as well. one lone crow feather, standing in the grass.

and when all evidence is but one feather, what does it say about this crow?

what evidence are we leaving as we fly through this world?

are we complacent, inattentive, unmoved by all the chaos of the current climate in these un-united united states? are we merely living superficially, going about our days normally, with nary a nod to the cruelty and vileness of what this administration is wreaking, what this administration is intending? are we ignoring the descent of this country from the cherished democracy it had been? are we shushing each other, refusing to partake in conversation, stating that we “just don’t talk about it”?

or do we care about the fast and vast changes that are taking place? do we feel the pain of others, do we try to put ourselves in their shoes? do we try to ease the burden of people who are affected by the policies based in homophobia, xenophobia, racism, extreme nationalistic, misogynistic, patriarchal, antiquated horror? do we speak up, is there an inflection point when we are no longer silent?

I didn’t pick up the feather. i left it there because i felt like it was evidence that we all leave evidence for others to witness.

what is the feather we choose to leave behind?

*****

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

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decrescendo of the day. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there is a spot in our backyard – a pretty specific spot – where we can sit and watch the sun as it gets lower and lower in the sky. it filters through clouds or the trees to our west. it lingers over the familiar rooflines of houses nearby. it is a spot on the patio that is ridiculously reassuring as we adirondack-chair sit, sunglasses on, witnessing the beginnings of the end of the day.

because we are not given to dinners out – and they aren’t really in our budget anyway – we tend to spend the waning hours of daylight on our deck or on this patio. maybe with a little happy hour, maybe just quietly – either way, it is a magical way to be a part of sundown, to begin evening, particularly when the ‘hood around us is silent but for the sparrows, chickadees, cardinals getting in last licks at the birdfeeder, dustbathing in the dirtspots dogga has generously dug, sipping water from the birdbath or the pond. it can be so quiet as to hear the hummingbird’s tiny chirps as it buzzes over our heads after devouring at its feeder. these are good days, the days that decrescendo like this.

and so, i try and capture these ends-of-day – for other days when the time comes for sunset and the horizon is full of clouds or rain, for other days when our hearts need the reminder, the universe hug that there is a night of rest coming and a new day to follow.

i glance over at d – whose hand is holding mine – and watch dogga run his backyard circle of joy.

for this moment, i feel a sense of peace. I breathe it all in – soaking in the energy that we need to be in these moments of history. i lean back against the throw pillow and exhale.

and hope to sit here again tomorrow.

*****

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

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

it goes by fast on the train – almost a blur, but not quite.

“you are beautiful,” painted on the side of an old building.

in the middle of all the ugly going on right now, it is a good reminder: not to lose – or forget about – our own value, our own light, our own beauty.

somehow the most basic gets distorted in the chaos. somehow we put our joy to the side, we drop our view from the kaleidoscope of exquisite, we forget that this one and only moment is ours and we are here for it.

we simply cannot allow the turpitude to rob us.

there is so much more.

we need intend to keep the glorious close.

transcendent.

“beauty will save the world.” (fyodor dostoevsky)

*****

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

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

we prep and we wait. two of our friends wait as well – all of us ready to text as soon as we see one. it’s a vigil for the tiny hummingbird.

this year we were the first. the hummingbird surprised us as we adirondack-chair-sat outside. it was morning and the sun was brilliant. we were quiet as the day began to warm up. and then, suddenly, it was there.

there is something infinitely touching about that first tiny hummer. something that gives you pause.

we love our birds – all of them. we consider our birdbath one of our finest outdoor purchases. watching a black-capped chickadee or a house sparrow perch on its side and dip its head to drink, or a robin fully immersed, splashing around…it is joyous to know you have contributed in a tiny way to their precarious lives. it’s much the same with our feeders – it’s all just a reminder that we are in this same big world together.

and then the hummingbird shows up. and, after once, it remembers, just like the news spreads through other birds about the clean water birdbath or the feeders in the backyard.

and then, though invisible, there is a connection.

it was always there.

we transcend that which binds us to the pragmatic, the stuff of our lives. and we sit – watchfully – as we wait for the hummingbird’s return to the feeder. or the chickadee’s entry and exit into the birdhouse. or the cardinals – walter and irma – at the flat-based house feeder. or the sparrows dustbathing where dogga had dug. we just wait.

these are the moments. and the ones before slip away as the ones to come linger in the air. we just sit – untethered to either – our wings resting.

*****

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

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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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in the meanwhile. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“on the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you.” (bennacht – john o’donohue)

in the meanwhile we keep hiking the trails nearby…the bike trail, state forests, nature preserves, state parks,, county parks. there are times (though never enough) we are in colorado or utah or north carolina and there are mountains or red rock to hike, deserts and canyons to explore, waterfalls to discover. but most of the time we are here. and here is where we hike. nevertheless, we keep it fresh, each time.

we’ll continue to sort life on these trails. with everything that has taken place in these last years – and, devastatingly, this week – there is plenty to sort, lots to process. these trails help us stay present – not get lost in the chaos of tangled underbrush, not get too waylaid by the terrifying what-could-happens. one step at a time, one foot in front of another.

i’m writing this at sixteen minutes after noon eastern time on monday. i have a pounding headache right now and my breathing is shallow. even without watching we can feel it in the air. the changeover. the democracy axis tipping to the oligarchs on the dais. there is a wafting scent of narcissism and revenge and you can feel the gloat descending like storm clouds. presence is damn necessary now.

“…a lot of evil happens because of ignorance and of numbness…” (john o’donohue)

so in the meanwhile – the time between this new now and whenever evil releases its cruel grip – we’ll seek the spaces that keep us in beauty. we’ll find others as they, too, look for the beautiful, the simple. and we’ll hold fast to the clay under our feet.

*****

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

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


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any feather in silhouette. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

in silhouette – in the trees against the sky – it was difficult to tell if they were starlings or grackles. the identifying characteristics like feather, head, leg or beak color fly in the face of the silhouette. tail length and body shape can be discerning factors as well as their bird calls or the raucous sound that they make while hanging out in trees together. but – at these moments that we were photographing them – they were quiet and, though i might lean toward starling – because of their general body shape and tail – i’m really not sure. plus, starlings and grackles and blackbirds all often mingle together, so it can be hard to distinguish one from the other.

what i do know is that it doesn’t matter. they were beautiful all perched in the trees and it’s a marvel to look up and see sooo many birds, resting and waiting before they move on.

we are coming ever closer to the changeover in the administration of our government. it feels like we are getting a little bit quiet in waiting. there is so much chaos that can happen quickly and this morning we talked about who will stand in integrity to push back against it all, who will be decent, who will abide by the laws of the land, who will be responsible advocates for humanity – the absence of which will perpetuate a chaos of insane proportion.

were we all to be seen in silhouette perhaps there would be more likelihood that we might all be treated equally, that people would not be disenfranchised or marginalized because of pigmentation or gender or ethnicity or sexual orientation or socioeconomic status or any other differentiating thing.

if we had to squint to try and make out the details of each other and – still then – think that we are all basically the same – for silhouettes – and yes, people – are like that – maybe this country could be a better place.

i shudder thinking about what’s coming. it makes me feel sick to my stomach.

i wonder when wisdom might return. the meanwhile is going to be a shameful place.

if you’re looking for me, i’ll be in the tree communing with the birds. you’re certainly welcome to hang out. they say birds of a feather flock together. any feather.

*****

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

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