reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: blooming


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waiting there. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it is with great anticipation that i wait for the peonies. it’s a long process, from the ground up. from the tiniest maroon sprouts to buds just waiting to burst furth into the world – it’s glorious and wonder-full, and each year now i am thrilled to see the arc of these beautiful blooms.

my son said something in a social media post the other day that really stopped me. i went back and listened again. and again. he said that music waits for you…it waits for you to “come to it on your timeline”…it waits for you to come back…”it waits to accept you, ready to understand you.” it’s “never gonna go away and it’s always going to be there for you.”

and in those words, he brought tears to my eyes. not only because what he was sharing in that post about himself was vulnerable, not only because part of what he was sharing made me very sad to hear. but because his joy in the journey back to music – his music – was so clearly buoying, so very triumphant, a mighty trajectory of his creating.

i’ve been turning on the salt lamp in my studio lately. it’s like i want it to stoke up good energy in there.

standing next to my piano, i held the crystal divinatory pendulum in my hand, thinking about what questions to ask it…understanding that my subconscious would likely dictate what the answers would be. there are times that one is not really sure of one’s own subconscious thoughts or biases, the ability to translate from desire or idea into reality, into do-ing. times when pain pushes aside artistry.

i purchased this pendulum in a cool hippie store in northport, my hometown. on purpose. i thought it was striking – even in its simplicity – but i also wanted to bring home a bit of the internal-intuitive-wisdom and lighthearted belief-in-the-universe i had lost in that place decades ago. in these days of falling back in love with that harbor town, i wanted ways to surround myself with what i remembered about myself from the olden days of being in love with that water, that sand, that place. twelve dollars wasn’t too much.

and so, the other day i took it out of the small suede bag and held it first in my hand, reminding it who i was. and then i held it up and asked it to show me yes – it circled around. i asked it to show me no – it moved in a straight line back and forth.

and in the following minutes i asked it – words to the effect because sharing my exact words is just a bit too much right now – whether i would return to the music that was waiting for me.

it was still and then – i suppose after accessing my heart, the wistful tendrils of hope, the very tentative wisps of maybe-it-can-be-so, it circled wildly.

i thanked it and quietly put it away, not wishing to go any further right then. it was enough. we’ll see. the arc is not closed. the peony is going to bloom.

“music…it’ll be waiting there, ya know,” my wise son said.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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blooming. [merely-a-thought monday]

as i stand with david, together with his mom and siblings, watching his dad walk down the path of dementia, i am deep in thought of my own parents, missing them. elusive complexities become simple and unimportant as i think about my sweet momma and poppo and their stamp on the world. though certainly worthy, they will not be detailed in history books or in record-holding guiness lists, nor will they be featured in paintings in state buildings or referenced in periodicals, footnotes of prestige. but, just as the life that columbus is forgetting, a life rich in experience and love, so were the lives of my parents. their lives had purpose, their stories were and are important. their dreams counted and their voices mattered. and, though it need not be said, they made an impact.

there are moments when i gaze around and marvel at the rapid movement around us. i feel as if i step back away from the edge of the chaos that is everyday life in a society that values ‘more’ and i just wonder. i wonder about how we all fit in, how, from beginning to end, our lives – in the swirl of everyone’s lives – play a part in this world. i wonder how our very molecules affect other molecules, how permanent or impermanent this effect we have.

pat said, “it’s why you’re here.” she seemed much more certain of that than i. middle age, or maybe it is later middle age, as ross pointed out the other day, is complicated. there is a bit of that elusive complexity whirling around, waiting for us to reach up and cup it in our hands, like catching fireflies on a muggy summer night. holding memories close, we glance back at our lives, pondering the rights and the wrongs and the joys and blisses and the mistakes and the regrets and the happies and the sadnesses, and we watch the glimmering light, surprised at the time that has gone by, stunned by the arc of life that even the tiniest path-choices brought us. in the looking-back we notice the insignificant. in the looking-back, we notice the significant. and sometimes, when we are lucky, we realize how absolutely preposterous it is that we are here at all, how miraculous that we can feel, that we are breathing in this very time.

and i think about my mom and dad. though perhaps generations from now – even possibly just a few – there may be no more out-loud mention of their names or their stories, but they will have been here and, for that, the world is different. i think about columbus, who, though forgetting, is still here, is still holding to life and the filmy stories he can access, his innate and unspoken courage on that path – so painful – moves us, brings us to tears, yet, inspires us. his forgetting reminds us to remember – to live.

we are all on our way to changing the world. each and every one of us, despite our differences, despite anything. it’s why we’re here. it’s ridiculously simple and ridiculously complex.

*****

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


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a bit damaged and blooming. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

spring? is that you??

the snow was piled high on our walk around the ‘hood. stepping carefully around icy patches and those unsightly mountains of dirty snow next to the road, we strolled for a couple of hours. it was still freezing-cold out and the wind on our faces was biting. but the sun was out and, with icicles hanging off houses and treacherous sidewalks, we were stunned when we came upon this sight – early bulbs rising out of frozen ground, in a sheltered and sunny spot on the south side of the street. a signal that there is a new season to come, we practically danced on the sidewalk.

i texted her a photo and asked linda what these bulbs were. a lover-of-all-flowers, she immediately wrote back, “daffodils, i think. they look a bit damaged. like they came up and then got snowed on.” i replied, “aren’t we all? a bit damaged?”

it’s been a long hard winter. a long fall before that. a long summer before that. and, well, you know about last spring. today, scrolling through facebook, i saw a post that read, “a year ago this was our last normal week and nobody knew it.” wow. we can’t help but be a bit damaged.

but now, we look to the sun each day and note the rising temperatures, little bit by little bit. we think about coffee on the deck and a glass of wine on the patio. we look forward to the muddy trails in our favorite parks. we know that, though some things haven’t changed and the bit-of-damage is still present, there is a horizon and we are headed that way.

the bulbs will bloom, no matter how much they get snowed on. and so will we.

*****

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