reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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roll tide. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

when you write a blog every-day-every-day you are opening your stream of consciousness up to anyone who cares to read it. we have no preconceived notions of our blogs – they are simply a practice of artistry – of writing – one medium through which we might express ourselves.

i would suppose – as i scroll back through blogtime – that these might appear somewhat – well – scattered. because we haven’t opted for a blog that is entirely about one thing – unless you count that they are about living life – we traverse all over the place.

sometimes, they are about creating – through music or paint – and sometimes they are about the tiniest of moments lived. sometimes they are absolute rants about inequalities or the disenfranchising of people or those in high positions pushing other people under the proverbial bus. they are not the entirety of life but they are schnibbles of our lives, our experiences, our thoughts, our worries, our successes or deep disappointments. sometimes one of us – in our individual blog – is off the rails and sometimes it’s the other. sometimes we write and erase the whole thing. sometimes it is all just too much to share. facing vulnerability is alive and well in this sort of thing.

so as you ride the coaster with us – if you are choosing to ride it – know that we are not lingering in one place or the other. like you, we are surfing the full spectrum – end point to end point. we are sorting and wondering and asking questions and trying to do the best we can at getting through while being sure to relish every good thing we see or feel or experience.

we’d love to be all rainbows and bubbles and sunrises – as i was accused of by my dear friend marc all through high school – but living isn’t just all that. and sometimes, people need to hear that they are not alone in what they feel or in how they are struggling. i know we do.

and so, our blogs ride the tide – a virtual tidal wave – of emotion that is life these days. we’d love to know that we have made you smile. we’d also love to know we somehow made you weep.

when my cds were being sold on the television shopping network qvc, i received a note from a stranger. she told me that her dad had passed and that when she went to his home in texas to sit and write his memorial service, she wandered about, looking for clues about his last days so that she might include them in the service. she found three cds in his CD player – all three of them mine. she played them for his service and told me that i was on the journey of his last days on earth. it was humbling and gratifying to read her words and to know that the ripples – those incessant concentric circles of all manners – i sent out in my recordings had wrapped around someone and, perhaps, comforted them.

even in the worst of moments, in the worst of writing, in the darkest of blogs, i wonder if someone out there is nodding their head, glad to know they aren’t the only one feeling what they feel. i also wonder if someone is out there growling. both.

a long time ago i was told that as an artist it’s not my job to determine what happens in the out there – it’s just my job to put it out there.

in this new year – a tidal roller coaster promising to be of giant proportion – let’s hold hands and know we aren’t alone in the roll.

isn’t that the point anyway?

*****

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

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galloping gishers. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it was only later that i could put a name on it. after the onslaught, post-avalanche, suffering from shock (though no awe), swirling from being bombarded with zero chance for retaliation. and it all came from what-would-seem the unlikeliest of places – a person in esteemed position, regarded as powerful and wise – a person who turned out to be the wizard behind the curtain. it actively devastated all chance of truth and the cadre of co-conspirators rode the horses in this brigade of destruction. in the end, it was sad. in every way.

later on, i learned it was called the “gish gallop”…a strategy employed to distract, to overwhelm, to usurp any ability to correct the ship – there are simply too many false things, spurious statements at once – all being stated in rapidfire. it’s nicknamed “shotgun argumentation”.

in my experience, it was smack in the middle of the gish-galloping when i realized i had no way to counter all the untruths that were being said. it was too-much on purpose. if someone is going to resort to this sort of gallop – and there are no parameters or guardrails placed upon that person – the race is over before it has started. stating half-truths, misrepresentations, outright lies, it is a painfully sad strategy by wizards who lack decency and integrity, who need to hide behind the oz-curtain and blitz-word-attack. it’s ugly nonsense. and – unfortunately – it often works.

so…as we sit in the stands of this new horse race toward the attempt of demolition of our democracy, we have decided that we absolutely cannot listen or watch or cue in on every single gishy thing going on. it is not healthy. it is not truth. it is devised to make us all walk around in – live inside – the middle of the sickness that permeates this new administration. though – in reality – cantering completely the other way isn’t pragmatic – staying out of the horse race is.

winning is not about pushing all kinds of negative, hateful ish down others’ throats and convincing them that the sky is falling every second of every day.

winning is remembering to live best we can, to be the best we can, to live with compassion and solidarity and generosity and to call out the gishers galloping by.

i’d love to canter the other way – into the sunset. but i don’t have a horse.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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in the overlook. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i pulled off quickly – into a small lot overlooking the lake – because i knew that it would soon cease to be there – this striping of snowy beach, lake, storm, clouds and sky. soon it would disappear – maybe in moments – this differentiation of color – this horizon – soon it would become mostly gray. soon the textures would blend and it would become flat.

i am – we are – in the middle – once again – of a big attempt to clean out. thirty-five plus years of accumulation is a lot to go through and re-organize, donate, discard. every single thing takes longer than you might think. and, frankly, i am not anxious to go through it faster, to flatten it all out into neat-and-tidy in as short a time as possible.

i actually want to see all the textures of all this time. i am – figuratively – pulling off into the overlook so that i might gaze and reflect, remember and feel.

already, i’ve come upon surprises. already, i’ve been given a chance to remember tiny details i had forgotten. already, i’ve danced through children’s books and old vcr tapes, cassettes from the 70s and scraps of lyrics tucked deep in desk drawers. there is much to be done, but i’m in no rush. our focus will mostly be right here – in this era of national upheaval – and we will take our sweet time.

“everything takes so much longer than you think,” stating the obvious, i looked over at d, immersed in his own tasks of our cleaning-out.

“that’s ok,” he replied.

“yeah,” i sighed. “no need to rush,” a promise to go slow.

there’s plenty of time for neat and tidy, organized and pared down.

in the meanwhile, the textures of decades are on the horizon. in closets. in the basement. in the attic.

and i am in the overlook.

*****

THE WAY HOME © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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the beautiful and the blurred. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it is hard for me to pass by something this beautiful – this wispy milkweed pod – without stopping. i am fortunate to hike with someone who understands this. we stop and i study the milkweed; i take several shots.

it is not the first time i have taken photographs of milkweed in the winter. i’m pretty sure it won’t be the last. each time i see milkweed – even in the winter – even in its fallow – i feel like it is different – its slant in the meadow, the curve of the pod, the way sunlight plays on it.

this is how i will get through it all, i think. zeroing in on intense beauty, tiny nuances, millisecond moments. i realize that this is the power that is available to me. this is the distraction.

the invitations are numerous from the side of the trail, from the side of life. they beckon to each of us and it is up to us whether to accept those invitations.

i am kind of a detail person…so the invitations are somewhat evident to me, hard to miss. they blur out everything else, if you intend to really take notice.

and, in just that way, we are intending new practices – more intentional meditation, more exercise, more outside. and each time – despite any same-ness, there is the possibility of new. each time we may stop and study or gaze and admire.

“things will not be the same, because we will not be the same.” (anon)

it may be difficult to avoid focusing on the way things will be in these fraught times. nevertheless, we will try to focus elsewhere. to lean into the beautiful and leave the rest of it blurred.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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the edges of the new year. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“it is better to light a candle than curse.” (eleanor roosevelt)

and here we are – on the edge of a new year. we are merely a day hike, homemade pizza, a jigsaw puzzle, a bonfire, and a glass of wine away. not much time left now.

it was either when we were on the trail the other day or moseying about doing errands when he said, “ya know how you feel when the new year is almost there – like it’s a fresh start just waiting to happen? i don’t feel that this time.”

i understand.

instead, there is a prevailing sense of dread…one that is like a low frequency vibration in your body…knowing that something is coming and it is not good.

the trepidation is real. there is much cruelty lurking out there – an administration that is just waiting to take power and to prey on the populace of not-haves, the populace they dislike, even hate, the populace from which they will feed their egos and their bank accounts. it is looking to be a dark time and they are intensely gleeful talking about their promises and threats, which makes my stomach hurt.

and so we – like many – wonder how we will survive this dreadful period of time.

we have chosen light.

“if everything around seems dark, look again, you may be the light.” (rumi)

so as we head into this new year – so devastatingly fraught – we will intentionally look for light. we will focus on light. we will carry light with us. we will attempt – truly attempt – to be light.

every bauble will capture our attention. every ray of sunlight. every happy light. every snowflake. every candleflame. every flicker of hope. inside or out. we intend to pay attention. we intend to notice. we know light is not just light – it is given in generosity, in shared time, in words of reassurance, in moments of peace. we intend to linger in light and dispel the dark that threatens us…both in the sanctuary of our home and out in the world.

as we skirt the edges of this new year – 2025 just hours away – we wish you light as well. certainly – together – each bringing giant beams or the tiniest slivers of light – we may counteract the dark.

“darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” (martin luther king, jr.)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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the unflashiest. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“my process is different than his,” she said. i had to laugh. yes…yes…that is the truth.

the getting-ready-to-leave process is most definitely different man-to-woman, at least in my experience and the experience of my dear girlfriend.

they-who-shall-remain-nameless are ready to go. they’ve chosen their shoes, their coat, their hat if it is cold, their gloves, their scarves or neck gaiter or buff – whatever – and they are ready. meanwhile, we-the-other-person-in-the-equation are doing just-one-more-thing, turning off lights, turning on lights, closing the blinds, opening the blinds, filling the dogdish with water, getting tissues for our pocket or purse, grabbing a water bottle and a larabar justincase, as well as sorting through shoes and hats, scarves and gloves or mittens, choosing between a purse or a backpack. the decisions are not as – er – straightforward nor as quickly quick, particularly if we are multi-tasking…not to mention that we are proud putterers. but – at least here – and i know there, too – we eventually meet at the back door, kiss the dog goodbye and actually leave the house.

so “ready in the flashiest of flashes” in the department store jewelry department scene of love actually cracks me up, every single time. as the incomparable salesperson rufus fusses over gift-wrapping a necklace, the purchaser chomps at the bit to go (no plot-spoiler here) – yet rufus continues to wrap – tissue paper, a box, another bauble, yet another layer, a cellophane bag, more froufrou, eucalyptus, a cinnamon stick, another box. it is most definitely funny – “mr. bean” just being utterly charming to start with – all while the giftbuyer shifts from one foot to the other. and…in an unrelated though pertinent point, i can relate to the layered gift wrapping – i love to find ways to wrap things that might best showcase the item.

i think that d has gotten used to my unflashiest-of-flashes – yet thoroughly charming, i’m sure – exits. he usually says something like, “we’re not in a rush” or “take your time” to assuage my tendency to start feeling guilty about the everpresent one-more-thing-to-do and he also knows that being rushed makes me a tad bit cranky (“tad bit” is fluid and deliberately amorphous….) so it is definitely a self-preservation thing.

and so he is careful not to shift from one foot to the other. he is careful to not say, “ready to go??” (especially with many question marks). he is careful to find something to do – with his coat and hat and gloves and buff on – while he waits. he is careful to move in slowwwwest motion heading to the back door.

for we here – at least one of us – is not ready in the flashiest of flashes.

eh. que sera sera.

*****

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

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the fog is waiting. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

because we started late – not in our 20s or 30s or even 40s – much stuff was already in place – things like couches, tables, cozy chairs, cabinets, dressers, lamps, appliances – and we didn’t have to start from scratch.

but – as our time together has moved on – in our adding and deleting – we have chosen certain pieces to bring into our life together and we have celebrated those pieces in the space we share.

this past summer we added this handmade metal piece, placing it in the garden with the grasses, loving the way it played with light and shadow. much like the chunk of concrete in our living room or the vintage suitcases scattered in our home, it was a small purchase but it was something we knew would spend some time with us, tracking through seasons.

it’s foggy this morning. dense fog, i imagine it has invisibilized the lake. it’s pulling us.

today is a day to walk…outside. the quiet will envelop us as we hike in the woods and process these days – days for which we all make so many preparations, days that go by so quickly, seasons that carry those we love through and through into next and next, ever so swiftly. time does not stand still, does not wait for our witness, and the moments slip through our fingers much like we will slip through the fog.

we sit, under a blanket and not yet ready to go out, marveling at the perfection and the evanescence, the yearning and the satisfaction of time. we hold onto this moment of this minute of this hour of this day of this season – where we are warmed by a quilt, where can see each other typing, where we can hear the deep sleeping breaths of dogga right here. i try to memorize it.

and as we look out the window, to our barney aging – one moment, the next moment – we can see he is still grinning from the eve bonfire gathering, as only an aging piano in the backyard can grin. we are happy to see the ring of adirondack chairs and the vestiges of luminaria. and we admire the fleeting beauty of just a bit of snow left on top the coneflower.

the fog is waiting for us.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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tattered. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

tattered.

i realize i feel tattered. one moment the figurative holes in my heart will still allow me to continue on – unencumbered by the accompanying pain. the next moment those same holes are debilitating. i feel lost and like a balloon slowly losing air, like it is all surreal.

she said, “remember…you have a limited vision. you do not see the good that is also happening…“. that which is separate from the devastating. that which is like the sliver of light that plays on the floor when you crack the door open.

no…it is hard to see the good when the horrible is so much bigger, when hideous is shooting holes in your heart.

on our way to walk in the woods – to have some semblance of peaceful air – we passed by many houses with the flag flying yesterday. one flag, in particular, was frayed and shabby.

it made me think about the american flag, its symbolism of freedom, pride, respect. i researched a bit further. “red symbolizes bravery and valor, white symbolizes purity and innocence, blue represents vigilance, perseverance, justice.” (pbs.org & usa.gov)

freedom. pride. respect. bravery. valor. purity. innocence. vigilance. perseverance. justice.

our flag – an emblem of our values as a nation. this election has made a farce of those values, of that very flag.

and when that flag is tattered – as it surely is right now: “the flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way…” (u.s. flag code)

no longer a fitting emblem.

that the majority of flag-flying voters have chosen to destroy all those values in the unparalleled cruel and undignified manner that is looming in this country is unconscionable.

it’s not good enough for a tattered flag.

it’s definitely not good enough for this tattered country.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the unthinkable black and white. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

if we had looked only at the sky, it would have reinforced the black-and-white-photograph world we felt we were in. the sky was so november. but the photo was in color and, despite feeling differently to our core, the world was in technicolor.

the trail was mostly empty, which was a good thing. we needed to be there – our lack of hiking through interminable covid was taking a toll. exhausted from covid, exhausted from doing nothing, exhausted after doing anything.

and so the sky heightened our feeling – of walking in the black and white of this past week.

by now you know i am horrified by the election, by its results, by the actual people voting for these results. it cannot be clearer to me that there is a dividing line between me and those people who voted against my own family. it is black and white…that clear.

i’d like to go all maya/mlk jr./gandhi, heck, i’d like to go all jesus christ (“love one another; as i have loved you.” john 13:34). i suspect they would be just as horrified. quoting any of them as any kind of justification in or support of this horror story is hypocrisy.

because you have knowingly undermined the safety, security, the rights of my family, of people dear to me – and that’s pretty black and white to me. and i realize i can maybe love you, but not respect you, not want to be around you, not trust you or feel safe with you. your heart is different than i thought i knew. and i can’t pretend i don’t know or that it doesn’t matter. this – this – is becoming black and white to me.

love is a two-way street. turning your back on humanity is not love. the cruelty and immense intentional hardship you intentionally voted in for other people – yes PEOPLE – no better or lesser than you – is not love. hate, misogyny, racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia are not love. fascism is not based on love – you have fallen prey to cultish, narrow, extreme, bullying, propaganda-laden thinking that is not – despite the whipped-up and warped misinformed disdain you express at the price of eggs, individual gender identification, compassionate social programs – definitely not – based on love.

i’m pretty sure that many are struggling with this right now. we are all out here, internally trying to figure out the unthinkable – how our families or friends have betrayed basic rights – values – upon which we thought we agreed. it’s unimaginably brutal and painful and hard to wrap our heads around. it is so very, very sad. but it is pretty black and white.

it’s november. i drag my eyes from the november sky – where i was beseeching the universe for answers. and i look beside the trail, where leaves are still turning and the deer wait as we approach.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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yeah. now what? [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

the monday-morning-armchair-quarterbacking is over the top. there is no one excuse for these election results. to be real, there cannot be enough reasons for the despicable – what the majority of voters voted for.

in the aftermath – afforded from even little to no doom-scrolling that highlights the absolute tsunami of finger-pointing, blaming, history-touting, policy-pummeling, we now see that the maga-voters voting for all the maga-sh*t did not quite understand what the maga-candidate’s maga-agenda really meant.

many of them had tuned into fox news where they learned – and clearly believed – things like people were eating other people’s dogs and cats and you could send your child to school and they would arrive home the opposite sex.

despite all the information to the contrary, they didn’t understand tariffs nor did they understand what “authoritarian” meant. they didn’t realize mass deportation meant their relatives.

and, worst of all, they poo-pooed any talk of the abject cruelties of project 2025, jumping on the he-doesn’t-really-mean-that-he-wouldn’t-really-do-that bandwagon.

weren’t they surprised when – post-election – all the maga-cronies paused very few milliseconds and posted what would amount to a naa-naa-nah-naa-naa, stating that it was the actual agenda all along.

adding fuel to the what-the-hell fire, “…catherine rampell and youyou zhou (washington post) showed before the election that voters overwhelmingly preferred harris’s policies to trump’s if they didn’t know which candidate proposed them.” (heather cox richardson – american historian, professor of history – boston college, previously MIT, university of massachusetts amherst )

if you don’t fact-check, if you don’t ask questions, if you don’t care about any potential work in the aisle or if the country’s democracy could be decimated, if you don’t worry your little head about character or details of a candidate’s experience or qualifications or with whom they choose to surround themselves, you have chosen to be a voter voting on whatever your rage is, you have voted to follow the lemmings off the cliff.

amanda marcotte (senior politics writer – salon) opined, “a lot of voters are profoundly ignorant. more so than in the past.” ya think??

so, yeah. now what?

i’m going to clean out my closet, take a hike, hydrate and try to breathe.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING