reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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there. [two artists tuesday]

maybe one of the reasons i love brochures so much is the chance they give you of picturing yourself there. a good glossy pages-long-fold-out brochure can transport you, make you dream, put you there.

this morning we were talking about bus tours. not a fan of buses, i am not likely to participate in many long bus tours in upcoming days and years. i know that a bus tour will take a group of people to the highlights, the places-you-don’t-wanna-miss, the photo-ops. but i rail against experiencing those things at the same time as everyone else, in the same way, taking photo turns in front of the cliff edge, the monument, the cathedral. i realized that i would rather miss a few things along the way just so that we could do it ourselves, take our sweet time, breathe it in, immerse in our surroundings, really feel a place before moving on to the next. there may be times that a bus – for a jaunt here or there – might be necessary, but i don’t really want to see everything-on-a-big-trip out the window of a coach line.

my sweet momma and poppo, thinking ahead – and also not bus people (so now you know where i get this) – ordered a vw bug to pick up in germany back in 1971 when they went on an extended roadtrip (clearly genetic) in europe. they tooled around small towns and backroads all over, my mom in her glory with maps, my dad relying on her sense of direction. they sometimes slept at relatives’ homes, sometimes at inns, sometimes at small hostels, and even sometimes in their little bug in a field, once waking up next to a gigantic pile of dung covered with plastic tarps and tires. they adventured and missed stuff, but they immersed themselves and the stories from that time were delicious tales. the missed-stuff didn’t matter. the stuff and people they saw did.

i imagine us – as we watch pct hikers and john muir trail hikers – someday – hopefully – on these trails. i imagine us in all the national parks in utah. i imagine more time hiking our favorite trail in breck. i imagine us chatting with the owners of the general store in putney, vermont. i imagine us walking a bit of the salt path. i imagine us on the cliffs of ireland and the amalfi coast and maybe in the brilliant blue and white of santorini someday. like mr rogers’ “picture picture” i can see the video in my mind’s eye. it satisfies the yearning for now and gives me photos of dreamy quality, viewmaster brochures in my heart.

we spent an evening at the botanic garden, wandering. we didn’t sit down on this particular bench, but i can see us there, feel us there, surrounded by green.

we missed a few of the plant collections that evening, we missed the greenhouse. but we immersed in the paths winding around the garden and breathed differently upon our leave than we had upon our arrival. and that made all the difference.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


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enchanted. [two artists tuesday]

and golden was the glow from the forest as we walked

into the sun low on the horizon,

our feet swishing through leaves on the trail,

our gaze above us, to the canopy.

the quaking aspen invited us, “stay,”

rustling in percussive background

to our hearts beating and wishing.

the respite in the woods,

the time on mountains,

the black and white of this stand,

we immersed in immense beauty.

stopping in the middle, the path forward and back,

we stood tall,

breathing deeply,

and shimmered with them,

enchanted.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


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here. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

joey coconato has an undying love and appreciation of this place – earth – in all its constant beauty, in all its ever-fluid beauty. we have hiked with him many, many late nights of this pandemic, breathing easier because he is trekking, climbing, scrambling. we are ready to rest at the end of his journeys, the end of videos that have fed our souls. his spirit is inimitable and he is a completely understated positive force in the world. he is a leader led, himself, by a willingness to not-know, to focus on what’s up-close and to focus on the big picture, to see more, to adventure into knowledge. he looks for the good. despite some extreme circumstances, we have not heard him, out on the trail, speak negatively nor have we heard him crabby. not one iota. his life-view seems to simplify it all into gratitude for every step. his point-of-view seems to simplify it all into a peaceful co-existence with all that is natural, all that is living. he does not participate with the same measuring stick that others wield. and for that, he is in calm harmony with the world.

he stood in the vastness one day, mountains and canyons all around him, surrounded by trees he loves and lakes the colors of which cannot be found even in crayola 64 boxes, and with awe in his voice uttered, “it has been here every single day of my life.” he looked around; we looked around with him.

every single day of my life. it has been here.

the days he backpacked the maroon bells were particularly close to us. my daughter, with her adventurer heart, took us on a hike up into the maroon bells area. to see joey hike there was to relive the moments we, with her, stood at lake’s edge or caught glimpses of the towering red rock through the trees of the trail. precious time. treasured. his days in canyonland national park brought me right back to moments with her, just us on the edge of the precipice, laughter echoing across the canyon walls. unbelievably vivid in my mind’s eye, i am beyond grateful.

it has been a source of amusement for david and kirsten to speak of the moments i well up and cry – those first moments of seeing the mountains in the distance, the approach into the canyon, the arches of sweeping rock. i am overcome in these times as i stand on dirt that has been there forever and, with our dedicated efforts to mitigate climate change, will be there forever. it’s overwhelming. the sense of timelessness, of vastness, of my tiny-ness. i realize i cannot presume anything but the moment at hand, but i am reminded we are each part of the big picture, no matter how many moments or how few we are a part of them. we are each part of the change that takes place because we breathe. this earth would not be the same without us…we are dust of its dust.

so when joey stands still and is awestruck remembering, i draw in my breath with him.

every single day of my life. it has been here.

*****

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


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collective exhaustion. [d.r. thursday]

utterly exhausted.

we literally get to 4:30 in the afternoon, when the light of standard time is waning and the day is catching up, and we are both utterly exhausted.

we sat on the boulder overlooking the river and bowed our heads down, brows furrowed, squeezing our eyes closed as we listed the reasons why we might be tired. we decided it is collective exhaustion. we simply do not know anyone who is not beyond tired right now.

the last week offered many chances to be outside: warm sun, soft breezes, a rare november last-licks-of-second-summer. every walk helped. every minute in the adirondack chairs helped. every task checked off the never-ending chore list helped. but there was still this weariness, pervasive, inevitable.

in the middle of a raging pandemic, with the stress of keeping oneself and others healthy, with the worry of financial strain, with the chaos of the election, with the political climate and matters of social justice, with work challenges, with isolation away from loved ones and friends, with grief over our individual physical issues – where is the restoration, the rejuvenation?

and so, we tuck in. we lay our head in the crook of our arms and we sigh. we know we are not alone. everywhere, necks are bent low in sheer collapse.

collectively, we all slow down our rapidly-beating hearts and our nervous pulses. collectively, we consciously take a deeper breath. collectively, we will rise back up, unfolding our bodies from fatigue. collectively, we will carry on.

but for right now we are utterly exhausted.

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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COLLECTIVE EXHAUSTION © david robinson


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so much. grateful. [k.s. friday]

the last roadtrip haiku(s):

so grateful beyond

words that won’t capture it all

anyway: aspen.

immediately,

upon arrival, our breath

dissolves to vapor.

it’s soaring mountains,

exquisite moments, beloveds,

so much. gratitude.

purchase music to download

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

GRATEFUL from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood


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pear on wine bottle. [two artists tuesday]

pear on wine bottle

because one can only lament so much about the current divisive atmosphere.  and then it need cease.  at least for a moment.  for a breath.

we look around for randomness – arbitrary, non-thinking imagery, things that will effect little to no rise in blood pressure, little to no anxiety, no hot flash.

today, this image is ‘pear on wine bottle’, a still life depicting the ingredients of a 5pm cocktail hour.  the time of day when maybe the pressures of the day are easing up a bit or the weariness of the day is catching up.  a time of a deep breath, a long walk, an old-fashioned or sliced pear and a glass of red wine.

we are fortunate to have these moments at the end of the day when we can take a step back, sit in broken adirondack chairs on our patio and watch dogdog run circles around his roundabout sign in the garden.

we wonder, like you, when we can gather together again.  we sigh, not knowing.

when the waning sun warms our faces out back this day, we will tip our glasses to each of you, sending you love, good health and a breath of peace.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

roundabout website box

 


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looking in. [d.r. thursday]

Sacred Looking In with color copy.jpg

the fresh simplicity of this painting makes it feel scandinavian to me, clean lines, blues, yellows.  i recognize it.  its warmth.  its less-is-more-ness.

i also recognize the image.  the moments we stop, head down, turning inside.  pondering, wondering, musing.  the palette of our hearts, our lives,  a mixture of emotions, we try to wrangle a few minutes of quiet to sort it all out.

this painting – INNER LIFE – is a breath of fresh air for me.  a reminder of what a few silent minutes can offer.

view/purchase INNER LIFE on david’s gallery

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

shadows on TPAC sidewalk website box.jpg

SACRED SERIES:  INNER LIFE ©️ 2017 david robinson


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nurture me. carrots, pianos and frogs. [k.s. friday]

nurture me songbox

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

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

cropped head kiss website.jpg

NURTURE ME from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood


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purple adirondack chairs. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

purple adirondack chairs copy

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.

north of the tension line. indeed.

what and where are your purple adirondack chairs?

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

boots onthe bay website

Screen Shot 2019-05-13 at 7.13.32 PMwishing the happiest birthday to my amazing & beloved daughter, The Girl. Screen Shot 2019-05-13 at 7.13.32 PM


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they wait. [d.r. thursday]

WeWait Morsel

i can feel this painting.  i recognize it.  i have anxiously waited, looking out the window, babycat in lap, dogdog by my feet.  leaning forward, i have peered outside…waiting for someone to arrive, waiting for the mail, waiting for the sun to come up, waiting for my mind to rest.

we are in a time…you can feel the nerve endings jittering.  it is not a time of rest, nor is it a time of peace and unity.  we lean forward, looking out the window at moments passing, hoping to catch a glimpse of tomorrow and see a calmer day, a day where we might find a spirit of cohesion, a respite from the storm of divisiveness.

THEY WAIT…a beautifully poignant painting honoring the ever-faithful companions by our side, quietly and patiently waiting.  with no idea of why, with no questions asked, they steadfastly stay with us.

WeWait

THEY WAIT mixed media 24″x18″

click here or on painting above to view THEY WAIT

read DAVID’S thoughts on this D.R. THURSDAY

k&dbw backs website box_

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