grey/gray rarely has such a line of demarcation, rarely has distinctive texture such as in this picture beyond our littlehouse yard. grey is simply gray. it is the zone of not right/not wrong. it is the living in-between-ness of doing life this way/that way. it is the space of not-knowing, asking questions, learning, being vulnerable. it can be uncomfortable. but it is necessary.
the most growing i have done has been in the grey zones. the times when i did not know, the times i made mistakes, the times choices were confusing, the times devastated by life events, the times moving forward meant tiny baby step by baby step, the times i was vulnerable.
i would add we can never know, or even approximate, what someone else is feeling without being unguarded ourselves. we can never know the unanswered questions, the struggles, the amorphous-ness of life without the grey. we can never create without the grey – for an artist languishes in grey, if for no other reason than to seek the color within himself.
it’s not often i see something and don’t think of a song to go with it. whether it is a pre-existing song or one i make up on a dime, i want to just break out into song, spontaneously. it’s a by-product of the trade.
the eagle that makes its way across our yard, zig-zagging across the bay, is no less inspiring. depending on the day, i hear the steve miller band singing “fly like an eagle…to the sea” or john denver’s “i am an eagle, i live in high country…”
if a song doesn’t occur to me rising out of the recesses of my brain i’ll make one up. ask jen and brad about ‘the butterfly song’ or ‘sitting in the sun’ or ‘bigotry’, just for instances. mary kay and i have had conversations about making up songs on the fly…in the car…in the shower….walking in the woods. these are not – you might be surprised – serious compositions that may make the cut for the next album. these are just meaningful-in-the-moment songs that you belt out and, mostly, promptly forget.
as the eagle passes over our heads, i am amazed to see it in ‘real life’. i pause and steve miller fights with john denver for attention in my head. i hush them both and just listen to the waves and the silence of this majestic creature catching the wind.
it is against the odds that this tree clings to rock and doesn’t topple into the lake with a great splash and float away. instead it stubbornly holds on, a steadfast intention. the rock, the basso ostinato.
at a time when holding steadfast seems mightily important, i wonder about the questions we have been asked. will you stay? will you leave? will you love it here? in the midst of all the infighting, are you going to give up? will you hold on?
the answers may not be directly related to the actual intent of those questions.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. we will hold steadfast to our integrity. we will hold steadfast to the reasons we came here in the first place. to make a difference, to bring ideas and change, to apply that which we have learned, studied, experienced over at least 80 combined years of work, higher education and profession. to be honest and transparent and collaborative. to try and instill a sense of working together into a community divided by narratives too numerous to list.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. we will hold steadfast to our belief that people should be kind to each other, that people should not work around others nor should they undermine others, that people should instead lift each other up, not drive stakes into another.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. steadfastly. to honoring art, the driving force behind this initiative. to honoring creativity and the blossoming of beauty and wisdom, staunch tenets of artistry.
will we hold on? yes, we will hold on. steadfastly. to believing all is possible.
but, in answer to the real intent of the question asked us….will we hold on?
we will not hold on if others cannot join us in what is real, what is truth, what is most important. we will not hold on in the fire of pettiness or shameful self-serving underhandedness. we will not hold on, holding still while others take turns throwing rocks at us, at the real goals of this place, if those are indeed about art.
the answer to the question is not up to us. we can either cling to the rock, holding steadfast or we can topple, with a refreshing splash, into the lake and float away.
download HOLDING STEADFAST from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on iTUNES or CDBaby
i don’t purport to understand every painting of my visionary husband. if i ask him what a painting is about, he posits a question back to me, “what does it mean to you?” in normal conversation, this kind of question-question response is not troubling, but in husband-wife conversation it is slightly irksome, one of those times where you gently roll your eyes at your partner and sort of hope that coffee grounds find their way into the bottom of their first cup of coffee the next morning. ok, so maybe not, but it is from a little bit of laziness that i sometimes want him to just TELL me. instead, groaning, i take a tiny step back away from the painting and let emotion take over.
the title of this painting THREE GRACES suggests (from research) the goddesses of things such as “charm, beauty and creativity”. a wealth of goodnesses, a wealth of possibility. an appreciation of every little gesture, every honey bee, the creation by others of a world of wonder and challenge.
in our world today, we first cover our disbelieving eyes with hands of despair. we look to the heavens for guidance. we ground ourselves, one hand firmly planted for balance, the other on our foreheads, thinking, thinking. we seek to find answers, ways for charm and beauty and creativity to thrive. and the elusiveness of peace.
my sweet momma would start the day by chirping to me, “good morning merry sunshine!” what a gift to consistently start the day that way.
i wrote this piece at a difficult time in my life. the titles on this album somewhat tell the story: boundaries. scattered. pulling weeds. holding on, letting go. it’s not black and white. figure it out. taking stock. baby steps. each one a descriptor of that time; each title written for the album before the music. i composed to each word.
but the most important title on the album, the arc that reigns over the gut emotion of the rest, i realize now is ‘each new day’. for we are granted yet another chance….to choose to live the day well, to embrace the new, to walk in tomorrow’s grace, to love, to choose kindness, to say we are sorry, to recuperate from something that has hurt us, to work toward balance, to forgive, to model goodness, to help someone else in pain, to learn something new, to listen, to laugh, to hold someone’s hand or share a hug, to do better…
time really does move breathtakingly fast. each new day counts. good morning merry sunshine.
and then, while no one really paid attention – distracted by other things….
this painting is called ICARUS and, not being too much of a study in mythology, david told me the story. now, somewhere in the bank of knowledge that i have learned and somehow forgotten, it resonated. no matter. it is certainly relevant now. the shout of “squirrel!!” and the shifting of gaze happens time and again. our attention-deficited-culture becomes distracted by you-name-it and we miss things that are happening, that are more monumental than we realize. icarus flew too close to the sun. we try too hard. we push. we seek to achieve. we don’t pay attention. we miss. we get burned and fall. others fall around us. we don’t really pay attention.
what is really happening in our world while we are paying attention to the latest headline? what is really happening in our world while we get caught up in the latest rhetoric? what is really happening in our world as our politicians play shell games with us while the stuff of real importance they skirt past us?
david knows that i don’t really like this painting. it’s one of a very few that i would say that about. (just as i am quite sure there are musical compositions of mine that are not his favorite.) i feel a kind of mayhem, a kind of negativity from it. it unnerves me. but, alas, it is a contemporary statement. we don’t really pay attention.
i miss my piano. i didn’t realize how much until late last night, in the darkened theatre, my hands touched the keys and i could breathe. my neck and shoulders, stiff and aching from undue stress, relaxed just a little. tears fell down my face. they are still there now, as i write this.
this morning, as d was making breakfast, a tree frog hopped out from between the cabinets and landed on the stove. fortunately, we were able to coax him from the hot burners and take him safely outside. it was unclear how he got inside. but his message was clear, a message we had learned from helen quite some time ago. f.r.o.g. = fully rely on God. and so, a giggle and a time of fresh, deep breaths.
when i have performed this piece NURTURE ME (as i mentioned in a previous post) i have loved to tell the story of the carrot seed, the absolute knowing that nurturing can lift anyone, any living thing, from fallow, from despair, from seed into grandness, into thriving, into life.
carrots, pianos, tree frogs. all are capable of telling the story. nurture trumps hate.
download RELEASED FROM THE HEART on iTUNES or CDBaby
he painted this early on in the days he lived in wisconsin. a big canvas, his brushes moving effortlessly, carefully, intentionally, jars of paint by his side. and JOY came to be. i immediately loved it. equally, i loved being present for the process. i got to WATCH. a creation in the making. beautiful. he stood back and looked at his work.
regardless of your belief, you certainly must acknowledge that somewhere along the way there was a big blank canvas. a divine being named whatever-honoring-name-you-want-to-name-this-presence moved brushes effortlessly, jars of unimagined colors, buckets of stars, clouds full of rain and snow, mountains of hills and mountains, fields of fields and open rangeland, oceans and lakes full of water, gigantic test tubes of atoms and cells that would eventually turn into plants and trees, amoeba, bacteria, organisms, mammals, reptiles, amphibians, people – all by the side of the canvas. this supreme being moved effortlessly, carefully, intentionally. and the world came to be. a creation in the making. beautiful.
we hang this painting and gaze at it, interacting with it daily. we feel the joy of it, the color. we have relationship with the painting; it speaks to us and we listen. we respond to it, respecting it, hanging it out of direct sunlight, preserving it and keeping it beautiful.
we stand in the world and gaze at it, interacting with it daily. we feel the joy of it, the color. we respond to it, but do we respect it? do we have relationship with it? do we listen as it speaks to us? do we concern ourselves with its sunlight, its atmosphere, its water, its land, its living things – all of them? do we preserve it? do we keep it beautiful?
the adventure will soon begin. but before that, this ONE-DAY PRE-ADVENTURE PAINTING SALE!
if you are freshening up your surroundings and have a spot in your heart and home or workplace for one of david’s paintings, this 50% off sale may be good timing for you. browse the site and contact us (email: kerrianddavid1111@gmail.com) with questions or to make purchase arrangements. all paintings will ship before week’s end.
deb said, “you need to go sit in the adirondack chairs. and just breathe.” being a lover of adirondack chairs, any color whatsoever, i immediately agreed.
and so we did.
we sat quietly, in purple, in this very important time, as the sun warmed our faces and we could hear the gentle lap of the waves of the bay on the shoreline. there was nothing else but birdcalls and a bit of wind. it was sans noise. no traffic sound. no sirens. no trains. no loud stereos. just quiet. and the sound that sunlight and blue sky make on ever-greening spring.
wishing the happiest birthday to my amazing & beloved daughter, The Girl. 
