reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: blurry


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we share the mirror. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

when i was younger – a teenager – i used to sit in the tree outside my window and write. shy – at first – of using the word “poetry” to describe what I was writing, my sweet momma suggested the word “reflections”. so back then i adopted that word for a bit. i consider now how much time in my life i have spent writing reflections, writing lyrics, writing poetry…how much time i have spent – even figuratively – in that tree.

for obvious reasons – the gift of the early days of a new year – i am gazing back on the year we just exited, reflecting on the river we traveled. it’s why i keep a pencil-written calendar – i want to remember. all of it. the tough moments and the moments that seemed divine, the hilarious moments and the times I couldn’t stop crying. all of it.

as i look back on all the spindly memories i can muster, i wonder about the year’s journey. was i compassionate enough? was i courageous enough? was i stalwart enough? was i stubborn enough? was i flexible enough? was i unconditional? did i keep my mouth shut at the right times? did i speak up at the right times? did i shout at the right times? did i choose wisely – based on knowledge and truth and values? did i comfort? did i stand in love, act from love, embrace love – enough?

it’s snowing as i write this – under a delicious quilt looking out the window. if i turn my head just right, the happy lights are reflected in the six-pane window. if i cock my head to the side, i can source the mind-bank of reminiscing, albeit a bit helter-skelter and most definitely incomplete. if i close my eyes i can hear the silence of the morning; i can intend quiet. i can wade in the river.

i suppose that in the rearview mirror of our lives, we all have much to ponder. we each take up a tiny bit of space here and it matters. we flaw and we flounder and we – sometimes – maybe not as much as we would wish – sometimes we flourish.

i think that as i take spindly-sapling steps into this new year i am hoping to reveal as much as possible in the reflection in the river. it’s time to look that reflection in the eye. it’s time to be the same we are. it’s time to change.

if i wish to be a strong oak, resilient and leafy, then i must live as a strong oak, resilient and leafy. or an aspen. or a maple. or a lodgepole pine. or a willow. no matter.

grounded, supporting other life forms, part of a bigger picture – a bigger ecosystem – mindful that we are simply a grove of humans in a giant universe. perhaps we all need be mindful of what we are reflecting back. we are rooted together – with branches that reach for each other, for spirit. interconnected, we share this earth. we share responsibility. we share the mirror.

my eyes struggle to make the reflection clear. but rivers are like that. they are never entirely static. they keep moving. and things are a bit blurry.

*****

RIVERSTONE © 2004 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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clarity. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

there is no way to maneuver the depth of field on my old iphone. it is all about coming in closer and backing up – eyeing what is framed in the aperture and moving to adjust what i want the photograph to look like. i know that the newer iphones have some access to depth of field options but – at the moment – i don’t have access to a newer iphone option. so. i adjust.

i almost rejected this photograph as a melange post. with the closest red dogwood branch a bit out-of-focus it didn’t really meet my parameters for a post. and then i stopped to reconsider it. it’s a great visual reminder of how distorted things can look from up close.

clarity is something that comes when you put a little space between you and the issue or object of your attention. 20 always says, “you’re too close!” and it’s impossible to not hear his voice in my head now in the throes of any decision. and so i try to remember to back up a little, to have some distance as i consider – an overview. 

when d was working for a new software startup (before the business was unfortunately closed) their product was the perfect tool for clarity. after i understood even the most basic functions of this remarkable software – as they were looking for names – i kept blurting out suggestions like “pinnacle” or “eagle eye” or “lookout” or “apex”. it seemed obvious to me that having this incredible overview – a step back – was the perfect new software for people struggling to make sense of too much up close and personal…a pragmatic way to sort and prioritize…a realistic way to have perspective. it’s beyond my wildest imagination that they did not continue on their merry way into software stardom. but alas, such is life, eh?

anyway, that lookout tower approach has its wisdom. it’s like pulling into the overlook in the appalachia region on route 25e in tennessee. up until that moment – in the middle of them – you were aware that there were mountains but you were seeing them from too close to really appreciate the grandeur. you drive into the overlook, step out of your vehicle, walk to the retaining wall and you are stunned by the magnificence of how the whole world drops off beyond your feet, stretching on and on and on. and you can see – there are mountains and lakes and a river – things you could not discern from up close. 

in the middle of the middle stepping back is one of the ridiculously hardest things to do. it feels counter-productive when you are trying to come to some sort of conclusion or have some kind of perspective about a specific thing. but up close and personal, the red dogwood is blurry and i can’t appreciate its stunning beauty. from a little distance away, i can see how it plays against the warm beige of the grasses and cattails, how it enhances the fallow of this meadow.

in this crazy-busy time of year – with people rushing around trying to make the holidays perfect for themselves and others – i’m thinking that maybe we are all a little too close. i’m reminded again and again of what is most important. i’m taking in serenity as i can. we are trying to go slow – to appreciate the big picture – to not be clouded by that which is hard to sort or discern or, for that matter, even clearly see. 

yes, the red dogwood is blurry up close. but from a little distance it stands out in a field barren of much color. the dissonance fades. the chord resolves. there is clarity. 

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

INSTRUMENT OF PEACE acrylic 48″x91″

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blurry from here. [d.r. thursday]

it’s all blurry, isn’t it?

we are mutually reading a book – the measure – in which every person in the world over 22 years old is gifted a box. in that box is a string which represents the length of one’s life. we are about a third of the way through so making our way along the trail of this story. we can’t help but wonder if we would open the box.

it’s all blurry from here – the future. no matter what, we do not have any idea what’s out there, what is to come, what will or will not happen. even with the best of planning, the field of vision is not crystal clear.

our video of choice on-pillows was a pct hike. no surprise there. but the youtube we watched was extraordinary. an “older” couple – 61 and 60 – backpacking this thru-hike, exquisite photography, even more exquisite narration. more than a few times we wished we had jotted down his words, wisdoms from the trail, wisdoms from blurry life. they called their hike “a pacific crest trail coddiwomple documentary” and he explained that “coddiwomple” means “to travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination, ” to “keep moving forward even when you’re not quite sure where you’re going”.

blurry. life.

we could seriously relate. even without being on trail, we pay attention to just how blurry things really are. the rearview mirror can give you hints, but never quite enough information and, besides, it’s not the direction any of us are headed in our timelines. they keep going and going. focused, unfocused.

i have found myself peering at the future…as if through those tiny opera glass binoculars…trying to see what is out there in front of us. the aperture is narrow in diameter, the focus is not all-consuming. anything outside of the zone is out of focus. blurry from here.

i went through photographs the other day. i take hundreds each week. the unintentional rothko showed up in my camera feed. studying what came before and what came after gave me clues as to what it was a picture of. i now know what it is. but it doesn’t change the feeling the photograph evoked. the painting of color fields, blurry and without clear lines of distinction. a rothko created by accident.

life is kind of like that, i guess. you are out there, coddiwompling around, living life, breathing in and out, never really sure of the destination, always surprised along the way. you paint what you think will be the future. and then, in any given moment, it all gets blurry. blurry, but nevertheless – surprisingly – beautiful.

i’m not sure i’d open the box.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY