reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: beauty


by 1 Comment

the exquisite. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

in these days we are waking very early. our old dogga is hungry, maybe a little stiff, needing to get up and get us moving. and so we do. we open blinds and let the sun rise through our windows. we sit with our coffee against pillows in a bed we have now lowered closer to the floor for dogga. we listen to the birds and our pond gurgling. it is quiet. really quite exquisite.

we wake to the beautiful barebones of this universe – and sit in appreciation, silent as we listen and absorb the dawn of this next day. we are both very, very aware of this gift of time, this gift of stillness. we revel in the simplest of things for it is the simplest of things with which we surround ourselves; our budget is squishy-tight and we try our best to abide by the premise of ‘less is more’.

and it is in those moments – the moments of rays across our quilt, coffee in our hands, dogga at our feet – the moments of listening – that i can’t understand.

i can’t understand how anyone – particularly any person in any influential position of leadership – can wake up in the morning with evil-agendized intent in their heart. i can’t understand the superficiality of wanting-it-all, needing-it-all, having-it-all. i can’t grok the indecency of plotting against persons, peoples, missions, goodness.

i wonder how it is that one can wake so conversely differently, full of dreadful scheming. i wonder how it is that those people are of the same humankind. i wonder what twisted them, what broke their connection to morality, what tore the silken filaments of the recognition of unconditional beauty from them. what maelstrom enveloped their souls and trapped them in an eddy of cruelty.

we sit on the deck and look to the sky through the mixup of branches above us to the north. dogga lays nearby and the sun is sinking lower, the dusk sky an ombré canvas.

and – like many of you, i suppose – i still can’t understand. and it still doesn’t feel real.

but it is. and there are those – waking up yesterday, today, and – with nothing stopping them – likely, tomorrow – the textures of our woven universe unimportant, their own needs driving corrupt obsessions of power and control, their view of the world – this country – dark, their actions ruthless and cavalier, each of them impervious to the exquisite.

and the barebones of the universe sigh deeply, grief spilling into the technicolored chiaroscuro sky of dawn, the ink of dusk.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 1 Comment

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by Leave a comment

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 3 Comments

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

 

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 1 Comment

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

“our forever work is to learn to hold the brutal and beautiful in the same palm.” (suleika jaouad)

i am trying to learn to list to the beautiful. lean into it. curve that way. take that path. abruptly turn, if need be.

in these fraught times, these times of brutal, we are finding how we wake – how we start our day – is crucial. we are fragile, maybe just like you.

and so we watch through the mini blinds, through the screen and storm window, as – out across the deck, reflecting on the sunroom windows, just past the awning over the back door – the sun – rising over the lake – climbs to a place where its rays sneak around houses and gardens and reach out and out, brushing our windows.

and we can see it.

we watch as it intensifies and moves up, up. a tiny gift for us to hold.

and then – as we sip coffee – one of us quietly comments on how truly beautiful it is. and our day is officially started.

*****

taking stock © 2010 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 1 Comment

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 2 Comments

our tracks. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

like you, maybe, i woke up on tuesday, sickened. the scourge has impaled the nation and i am stunned beyond belief. though i know we – personally – will be working at keeping on keeping on, the fallout of less than 24 hours was mind-blowing. which i know was the point. shock and awe, as they say.

in the tracks of our future we need to decide just exactly what we wish there. the present tense cannot be that which we leave in our wake, for this twisted leadership’s twisted governing will – most definitely – be the end of humanity as we know it. it is hard to grok this kind of cruelty.

in this time of grieving for our country, our democratic ideals, rights and freedoms on the chopping block to be desecrated, a moral center devoid of morality, the heaviness of depression and dread move in like a thick fog – difficult to see through to the other side. this is stifling, intense, horrible.

and so, maybe, i know how you feel. and sitting in this “collective depression” (john pavlovitz) is necessary – for the moment. we need spend time looking back, looking at now, looking down the road. we need spend time in the middle of it all. there are no easy solutions, i suspect. but each inch of the road forward counts and the tracks we leave will tell the story of our attempt to find balance and peace and goodness. it is the fundamental one-foot-after-another.

even as i write this i know that i don’t know what i’m talking about. not really. i have not lived through such a time. i am – like you – newly embarking on a trek heavy with the baggage of an administration steeped in hatred, retaliation, corruption. to think i know anything about such things is overstating, hyperbole. i – like you – have been mostly fortunate to live – most of my life – in a country with laws, checks and balances, at least a few grains of fairness mixed in. but here we are. and, though 77 million people voted for this maniacal cadre, more did not – through their vote or their silence.

anne frank embraced hope, “i don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”

ralph waldo emerson’s words remind, “life is a journey, not a destination.”

when i come out from under the quilt, reopen the blinds and step out, i know that we will consider carefully our path as we go. we will step lightly and intentionally. we’ll not carry the fancy luggage with leather-edged nasty executive orders and gleeful manifestations of greed and malfeasance with us.

we will carry the scroll of our constitution and its good will from here and now to next days and the days after – our tracks will not be shameful indicators of the worst of us nor will they embarrass us. instead, they will be steady and strong and will tell the story of this journey for “whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly” (martin luther king, jr.) and we have a legacy to choose.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 3 Comments

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

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 1 Comment

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

sometimes at the end of the day we can hear the bagpiper playing on the lakefront. it’s a bit haunting. and it makes me think of buglers who trumpet taps: “day is done. gone the sun, from the lake, from the hills, from the sky. all is well, safely rest, god is nigh.”

we often hike in the afternoon – after all our tasks are finished. so it is not unusual that we run into the sun setting as we begin to return toward the trailhead. and now, in these late autumn days, that is happening earlier and earlier.

it was particularly beautiful to see the sun on the day i took this photograph. it had been cloudy and we didn’t expect the sun to pop through above the bank of clouds just over the horizon. we were grateful.

i’m guessing that this is the way to move into these uncertain times. to note the clouds and to be grateful for the sun. we are troubled, much like you might be as well. we can’t pretend that everything is coming up roses or that this future will be smooth sailing. but it is doing our hearts and souls harm to linger constantly in the toxicity that was voted in. i certainly have spoken my piece about all that.

i also can’t simply play taps to our country. because all is not well, because i don’t feel like i can safely rest and because I’m thinking god may not be being all peaceful-nigh-like watching hypocritical thuggish people steeped in bigotry, revenge, cruelty being all righteous in his name. so taps is on hold.

i will, however, lean on the day, the sun, the lake, the hills and the sky to remind me of what is really, truly real, what is really, truly beautiful. i will be mindful of the importance of the each-others in our lives. i will draw strength from any and all light around me, around us – including the unexpected elusive sun setting in cloudy dusk.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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


by 1 Comment

gutted. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

no air.

there has been little air in me these last days. like many of you – but clearly, not all of you – i feel gutted.

i, too, watched as this nation elected what it elected. and, like you, we all know what that means, voting in cruelty, burying compassion, damning moving forward and any what-could-have-been’s.

someone dear to me texted me on election day, writing: “and the thing is, people will never not know who they [others] voted for and supported.”

exactly. we cannot un-know what you voted for.

as I quoted yesterday, you are who you elect. (michael ramirez – the washington post)

i woke up yesterday, my eyes still swollen – like yours – feeling strangled by the results of this election. it was as if color had escaped, as if texture had been jackhammered away, as if air was only to be found in shallow hyperventilated gulps. my children, i kept thinking, pondering their future, my daughter, my son.

there is much to do. and I don’t even know what that means right now.

we took a walk in the woods.

there was the simplicity of our footsteps – one foot in front of another – step, step, step. boiling it down. movement.

it was quiet but for rustling squirrels, blissfully unaware of the election, merely gathering for the fallow that will soon befall the forest.

there was beauty. inevitably. and, for a bit of time on our hike – the time when we weren’t spilling our grief on the path – i got just the tiniest bit lost in it.

i fear that things, that living – for the rest of my life – will never be the same again. that the darkness – darkness which people we all know have chosen – will engulf everything.

so i know that there is much to do, despite the utter grief and despair i feel right now. there is much to do to bring back the light.

this morning i woke when the sun was just coming up. dogga jumped on the bed as soon as he knew we were the slightest bit awake. we were quiet as the light began to stream into our room. we sipped coffee.

we will clean the house. we will go take a hike. we will attempt to breathe. we will be aware of beauty. we will study it – its astonishingness – and i will try to figure out how to bring it to this aching world any way i can.

and all the air will circulate ’round – the wind of next days and next days – filling our tired lungs, drying our eyes, helping us take one step after another, so that we can do the much that needs to be done.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY