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Tag Archives: complacency


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be informed. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it is incumbent upon us as we hike to be as familiar as we can with vegetation that may be harmful. it would not serve us well to go plowing though poison ivy or linger in poison hemlock. we need to be able to discern the difference between cow parsnip and giant hogweed. we need to be informed.

were we on the pacific crest trail we would need to be able to instantly recognize poodle dog bush and to stay away from stinging nettle and poison oak. we would need to be discerning. we would need to be informed.

in this day and age, being informed has become easy. most of us carry in our back pocket or our purse the potential to research anything. absolutely anything. to avoid danger. to make choices. to exercise good judgment. to stay up to date. in a fast-moving world, we need to be informed.

and yet, in this incredibly dangerous time in our country, there are those who are complacent – who have turned a blind eye to what is happening. granted – it is hard to find the truth of it all, for this administration wishes to obscure all that it is really doing and couch what they do portray to the public eye as making america grrrrreat. but, it feels like our duty to at least try and discern what might be harmful to us and to those who follow us in future generations.

which brings me to the bbb – the big ___ bill – which i out and out refuse to call “beautiful”.

if one is not really paying attention – really, really paying attention – one might miss some of the really “great” rhetoric in that bill. because in the middle of all the schlemiel schlimazel blahdeeblah skewed propaganda about money and money and more money (benefiting the wealthy money-ladened oligarchs and gluttonous corporations among us – the greedy end goal of this administration) there are some nasty little hidden secrets.

if one is just riding the edges of the media – or if one is utterly and fully ensconced on the big red wagon – one is hearing about the money-money parts of this b-b-bill, the isolationist parts of this b-b-bill, the mass deportation intentions of this b-b-bill, but nothing about, say, the very real possibility of not being able to hold this government in contempt or even accountable. or perhaps one should foray into what the b-b-bill says about immigration or co-opting military force against the citizens of this country or maybe the decimation of social programs and safety nets or the desecration of national lands, resources, education or healthcare or-or-or… a little discernment goes a long way. we need to be informed.

the not-so-beautiful-but-actually-quite-gruesome-bill, the one that will affect every single one of us, sans the billionaires among us, is lurking in dark corners, hiding its every project 2025 intention, threatening this democracy in every way.

and we absolutely need to be informed.

you simply cannot wander – uninformed – into poisonous underbrush and not be poisoned by it.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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most definitely not ho-hum. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“literally incredulous at the “ho-hum” behavior of those all around me.” (m.d.)

i passed by these words on instagram while scrolling the comments of a profoundly relatable post. i scrolled back to them. and sighed.

another comment read, “if one more person tells me i’m overreacting, i will lose my sh*t.” (k…) yup. sigh.

and another: “more people should be really angry about everything that’s going on. if not, they aren’t paying attention.” (b…)

john pavlovitz wrote: “you know who I’m talking about: those friends, family members coworkers, classmates and social media acquaintances who tone-police us for surveying the monumental destruction being inflicted upon our fragile republic and its people and being livid…”

he continued: “there is a time and place for self-control, for tolerance, for listening and bearing with people, for breathing and being still.

but there is a time and place when the gravity of the moment calls for something fierce and unwieldy; a wildness of heart. i suggest that now is such a time, and here is precisely the place.

america is on the brink of authoritarianism…”

we talk about it a lot. we read the news, fact-check religiously, study a variety of opinions and historical footnotes, watch video footage, debate between ourselves – the two of us.

because there are so many – so, sooo many – people who just simply don’t want to talk about it, who prefer to talk about positive things, who exclude politics from their menu of conversation options (though i’d beg to differ on this – this is not politics anymore; this is real-life america now! – it is what is happening on a daily basis.)

you know the instant you even try to bring it up – there is a moment when a look crosses their face, there is an extra beat or two before an answer, there is an instant pushbacky “don’t you think about anything else?” or various conversation deadenders “i can’t go there” or “i am not gonna talk about it!”

and i wonder what – exactly – one does when one’s country is being decimated and a buncha people aren’t really willing to discuss it because – well – it’s uncomfortable.

it is heartbreaking to wish to have hard real-life conversations but never be able to get to the nitty-gritty of it all. not talking about it will not make it go away.

there is nothing – nothing – ho-hum about what is happening in this nation. it is staggering.

because we are both empaths, we unfortunately can pretty much feel the vibration frequency of fear as it swirls around this country. i keep wondering how low “they” can go. i keep wondering when some of the people – the ones hip-hip-hooraying all this, the ones whose dark souls align with this abject cruelty, and, yes, the ones who just don’t wanna discuss it – might catch on to the plot. i keep wondering how we might be able to stop this twisted administration from destroying all we know.

i am anything but ho-hum. we are most definitely not ho-hum.

“…we need a lot more fire and a lot less calm. right now, it’s a sign of your humanity, of your sanity, and of your soul, to look around at it all and say, ‘i’ve f**king had it.'” (john pavlovitz)

*****

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

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

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


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artists and bootstraps. [two artists tuesday]

the bootstraps are getting a good workout.

the flutter in my heart, my racing pulse, uneven breathing.

i tug at the bootstraps.

i don’t have a choice.

i am an artist. bootstraps come with the job. they are inherent. they are undeniable. they are a burden. they are a release. they are imperative.

we cannot hide from the here and now. we cannot hide from the truth, be it light and airy, be it ugly and heavy. we speak to now; we help provide access to truth, to raw emotion, to the basic fundamental sameness – and yet individuality – of humans. to where the rubber meets the road.

we pull up the bootstraps and take a deep breath.

we dive in.

“just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water,” the infamous tagline from the box office movie hit “jaws”. we are shocked by the cold water, the lurking sharks, a symbiotic ocean with underlying danger. we muster on.

the art, the music, the prose, the poetry, the dance gently ease us all into a place of rest, of reassurance. the art, the music, the prose, the poetry, the dance prod us all out of a place of mediocrity, past complacency, past laissez-faire. the art, the music, the prose, the poetry, the dance urge us into thought, into action, revitalize our fire. this is the job of an artist.

i take a breath. try to slow my pulse. feel the slight flutter in my heart. take another deep breath. i re-tie my boots. pace. glance in the mirror. look at my notes. say a quiet prayer. breathe. shift from one foot to the other. breathe. my pulse runs faster. the curtains part. i walk to the apron, bow my gratitude, take the bench. hands on the keys, boom mic inches from me, i begin to speak.

i take a breath. try to slow my pulse. feel the slight flutter in my heart. take another deep breath. i re-tie my boots. pace. glance in the mirror. look at my notes and the score in my hands. say a quiet prayer. breathe. shift from one foot to the other. breathe. my pulse runs faster. the musicians take their places. i walk to the front, sweep across the singers and accompanying instrumentalists with eye contact, appreciation and love, stand in front of the piano. hands on the keys, all at the ready, we begin to speak.

i take a breath. try to slow my pulse. feel the slight flutter in my heart. take another deep breath. i re-tie my boots. i pace. i glance in the mirror. look at my notes. say a quiet prayer. breathe. shift from one foot to the other. breathe. my pulse runs faster. i stand in my boots. i walk to the front, bow my gratitude, nod to the empty bench. hands trembling, no microphone, i am escorted out the exit.

i pull up my bootstraps.

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY