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Tag Archives: courage


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now.never not.never not now. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it’s a heavy load. to be the woke – the empathetic, voiced, visioned, courageous, big-feelinged folks – both disparaged and desperately needed.

when all else has been sloughed off, when all else has failed, when all else is dross, it is art that will remain…there will still be heart.

this quote – way too big to actually write about without a feeling of undeserved arrogance, way too big to even begin to dissect without a feeling of ineptitude – it is an urge, a plea, a last-licks, it is an imperative we artists follow anyway: to turn complex feelings into something people can touch, can hear, can see, can taste. to turn that which we cannot see in any simplicity – beliefs, faith, love, philosophy, interconnectedness, bigotry, hatred – into something we can feel, something that resonates, something that gives us bite-sized bits to try and grok.

contemporaneously, without bruce springsteen there would still be the streets of minneapolis. but his music, his lyrics – his song has given beat and melody to the excruciating pain and stalwart dedication of the people in those streets. his music has given the rest of us – those of us in other places – also in pain and with dedication – something to grab onto, something to hold and wave and hum.

contemporaneously, without bad bunny there would still be a half-time show in the super bowl. there would still be grammy winners. but his tear-filled words, his staunchly raw comments ricocheting off the walls of the arena gave goosebumps to the rest of us – something we could grab onto, something to hold and wave and speak.

contemporaneously, without the cartoonists populating social media, the stuff that is happening would still be happening. but those cartoonists are bravely offering humor – sometimes truly dark humor – to give us something to grab onto, something to hold and wave and maybe, just maybe, laugh at.

there isn’t any way to rise and reclaim this place without the artists who are the building blocks for actual humanity, the collective melt in the melting pot, the mortar that holds it all together even when it collapses.

“people got to come together, not just out of fear…” (chicago – where do we go from here? – 1970)

it is never not the artists’ time. now is not different.

“let’s all get together soon, before it is too late

forget about the past and let your feelings fade away

if you do i’m sure you’ll see, the end is not yet near…“

the artists have already taken all those big, complex feelings and turned them into something we all can believe in. they’ve been doing it all along. the whole of time.

the world does need artists’ voices, artists’ vision and artists’ courage.

steep yourselves in it all. urgently. get brave. get going.

“where do we go

where do we go

where do we go from here?”

*****

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 kerri sherwood

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every pinecone. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we have two pinecones on the mantel. because, well, in these times, under these circumstances, in the middle of this middle, one pinecone doesn’t seem like enough.

we enter the new year.

and we draw on the pinecone – its symbolism is hopeful with descriptors of meaning like resilience, regeneration, connection to higher consciousness, abundance, good fortune and protection. right now, there is not much i wouldn’t put on the mantel to ward off negative influences.

pinecones on the trail always get my attention. there’s something about the starkness against the snow that is simply beautiful. and, on this day when everything was so vivid, this pinecone invited me to kneel down and capture it.

if there was anything i would like to remember – every single day – this new year, it would be just that – that everything is vivid, everything is inviting our notice. i would hope to remember to pay heed to all that is around me – even the simplest of it all, the seemingly inconsequential. i would hope to remember to kneel in the snow.

for as each day ends i feel that i will find – as i sort through the hours and minutes – that it was the least of it all that made me feel most alive, the least of it all that made me know that my one, wild life includes pinecones and deer tracks, cold fog over the lake, dogga’s sighs, the holding glance from d, the suspended ninth. it includes the belly laughs, sous-cheffing next to each other, the first sip of coffee, our favorite trail. it includes new gutters and rube goldberg fixes, fuel pumps and matching flannel pjs. it includes the birds at our feeder, the squirrels on the wires, the last hugs we had from our kids, the sun lingering in a pink-peach-fire dusk sky.

sometimes the most important stuff is the least important stuff. the things that carry us from one day to the next in troubled times, the things that sustain our will and buoy our faith, the things that give us courage and let us exhale.

wishing you every pinecone.

happy new year.

*****

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bubblepokers. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

from our perch in the sunroom we can watch it snowing. surrounded by glass, we have a good windowseat to the weather as it changes. it looked really beautiful ‘out there’ we agreed, also agreeing to throw on some warm jackets and boots and go ‘out there’ for a walk a bit later, as the snow accumulated.

we lasted sixteen minutes.

the wind was whipping off the lake and the snow was stinging our faces. brutal. it was not fun and it was definitely not comfortable. we pretended to be in the sierras on the pct, trudging our way to camp, to pitch our tent in the snow and rest. sheesh. just the thought of that made us consider a flipflop instead of a thru-hike. same miles, same terrain, different seasons.

“my comfort zone is like a little bubble around me, and i’ve pushed it in different directions and made it bigger and bigger until these objectives that seemed totally crazy eventually fall within the realm of the possible.” (alex honnold)

we both really respect alex honnold. he is an incredible athlete with downright top-of-the-heap courage. he constantly pushes himself, way, way past comfortable, every time expanding where his boundaries of comfort are.

in these years we have found that pushing the boundaries of comfort are necessary. we have found that immense amounts of courage are necessary. we have found that poking that safety membrane around us – as if inside a big luminescent bubble – is necessary. poking from the inside out, not the outside in. no bubble-bursting here.

we’ve made big steps in that poking.

it’s not like we haven’t poked-the-bubble before in our lives, individually or together, as artists, as humans. but – and i’m betting this is a common truth – poking-the-bubble is harder the older you get. and so, as we step out of our c-zones and into things more unknown, hard things, complicated things, scary things, we have a tad more trepidation, a bit of reticence, some good old-fashioned fear. we keep on.

so we are not intrepid snowwalkers, we see today.

no worries. there are workarounds. (not to mention a mostly-warm sunroom where we can sit at a bistro table and watch out the window.)

besides, our pokes are saved for other bubbles.

“the one thing you learn is when you can step out of your comfort zone and be uncomfortable, you see what you’re made of and who you are.” (sue bird)

*****

WATERSHED © 2004 kerri sherwood

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noisy. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“i once believed that silence was strength.” (anonymous)

and then i didn’t.

because “silence isn’t strength. it’s complicity.” (barbra streisand)

and so i – in my noisy – will stand firm and tall.

and i will wonder how others have not yet gotten there – to noisy. how others have not yet realized inside themselves that their silence – in these very days – is complicity. how others have not spoken up, spoken for, spoken against. how others have not been openly horrified at what this country’s administration is allowing, how this country’s administration is grifting, what this country’s administration is hiding, what this country’s administration is intending.

and i will wonder how others protect the wrongdoers. how others cavalierly wield the power differential around, like a discus before its release, spinning, spinning. how others thwart the rights of people they consider beneath them, lesser, somehow, than them. how others avoid accountability, culpability, the simple act of being responsible. how others stay quiet – seemingly a mute cheering squad for these, both voiceless and gleeful.

and i will wonder how it is that sexual assault survivors are expected to internalize their abuse, desperately seeking anything to normalize that which is not normal. how it is that sexual assault survivors are not lifted from their pain with the steady voices of everyone around them, instead of shushed or doubted or ignored. how it is that this question – “why we doubt accusers and protect abusers” – has any turf on which to stand.

but these are not my wonders to solve. these are mine to get noisy about. for it is my own heart i must answer to.

because, for me, silence is not strength. it is capitulating to wrong, quietly suggesting that i agree.

and i don’t.

“it happened. it was wrong. it matters.” (tarana burke)

it’s happening. it is wrong. it matters.

all of it.

*****

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burst past little-life. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

there were multiple times – when my sweet momma was here on this earth – that i brought her yellow roses. they were something special between us – an expression of love between mother and daughter.

yellow roses have a different significance than red. they are indicative of friendship, the deep bonds of love, warmth and joy, fresh starts, gratitude, hope. i read that in japan yellow roses symbolize courage and inner strength.

months ago, a dear friend gave me a small mini yellow rose plant, likely purchased at the floral section of a grocery store. it had several miniature yellow roses blooming and several buds in the waiting when i received it and i figured that it – like other more temperamental plants – would run its course.

it is months later. and the yellow rose is still in its original pot. it appears to love its residence next to the old garden table, on the deck, sharing a bit of space with the basil. it has flourished – bud after bud, bloom after bloom. it has embraced life beyond our expectation. even now, with its leaf-nod to the approaching fall, it has three buds – three bursts of beauty in the offing.

and, every day i look at it i think of my sweet momma. and i wonder about how this particular plant has been so resilient. i wonder if it had a littlebitta help from her.

i wonder if this plenty – this profusion of buds and blooms are tiny messages from her – sent in love, delivering bravery and perseverance. they are certainly well-timed.

and – if my sweet momma is the one whose green thumb from some other plane of existence has helped along this little plant aspiring to burst past what’s expected, to burst past little-life – i remember she is the same woman who wrote: don’t underestimate me…

*****

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

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light that fire. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

“only when a fire sweeps through, melting the resin, do these heat-dependent cones open up, releasing seeds that are then distributed by wind and gravity.” (national forest foundation)

one by one we fed ten lodgepole pine cones into our small solstice fire. one by one we silently whispered a prayer, a wish, a hope for each one. one by one we watched them ignite, slowly burning off the resin and sending off invisible seeds into the universe.

it was a perfect summer night. the wind had shifted off the lake and it was at least ten degrees cooler than it had been. we sat on the back patio for hours. it was quiet, peaceful.

it seemed a good night to look to something new, to celebrate the light of the solstice, the potency of life. it seemed a good night to lean into the lodgepole’s protection from unwanted energy, from evil influences. it seemed a good night to embrace resilience and renewal.

we have saved these pinecones, ever so slowly choosing them for release from a boxful that had been gifted us by a dear friend for our wedding. her words about fire and light and rejuvenation were truly soul gifts and we hold closely these precious lodgepole pinecones.

this morning i read that pine is “generally associated with longevity and wisdom, instilling courage and optimism.”

in the coincidence of the universe, these were a few of the words i held as i watched the pinecones i added to our solstice fire burn.

wisdom, longevity, courage, optimism, resilience, renewal, light, abundance, bounty.

it would seem that our nation needs to – figuratively – gather as many lodgepole pine cones as possible.

we need protection from the evil energy and influence that now seem indelibly woven into the fabric of this nation.

we need to seed something else entirely.

light that fire.

*****

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we need be brave. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it’s not like we initially had a choice.

boom! we were born. and there we were…wherever that was. random.

i often wondered why i wasn’t born into a family with trust funds and fabulous wealth. in recent times, i have decided that if this sort of status-in-life comes with the measures of evil we are witnessing from the oligarchs now at the helm of the country-ship, then i am glad i was spared.

and so, i am where i am. grateful for all that has been bestowed upon me.

the thing i have definitely learned – in my time here – is how brave one must be to be here.

we were sitting around the dinner table, lingering long with wine and conversation, when shelly said, “it takes the brave to come here.”

though at the time she wasn’t speaking about immigration, i would hasten to say that it clearly applies in that sense.

what i felt she was talking about was the transfer of amorphous soul to human being. here – this earth – is not an easy place – it has complications and complexities, egos and hard hearts, fragile love and steadfast commitment to it, dashed dreams, forgivenesses, betrayals and successes, personal perils and impossible challenges. definitely not easy.

to prevail in such a place – sans tough skin – is to ride a tide of emotion – upheaval with a smidge of smooth sailing here and there. but – as i have witnessed from so many others – somewhere along the way one reaches in and pulls bravery up from the depths. because it takes brave.

choosing right now to stand up, speak up, speak out, to not be silent, to not turn away demands that same bravery. here is not what it used to be and – watching the disintegration of everything i have known as this country – requires more than a morsel of courage.

sometimes we feel like an island – surrounded by louder voices that cheer on the nasty. aggression is at a peak; self-serving aggrandizement of the new administration’s agenda is a slap in the constitutional face of this nation.

we turn to those who will have conversation, those who will commiserate, those who will help to balance out the fear and angst we feel. we are all trying to be brave as we look history in the eyes and witness the systematic taking-down of our democracy.

personal perils we have had or have currently in our lives aside, there is a fundamental change happening here – for everyone in the masses.

we need be brave, have courage, be stalwart, lift our voices up.

every day we have awakened in our lives there has been something we have defeated – if only a tiny cold germ or an unkind word from another. we each came here – from some other dimension – to accomplish something, to be something, to contribute something.

i hope that we can be examples of a Here where others less fortunate than us want to be, where the brave are not only the immigrants seeking a better life, a better community, but the brave are us as well – stubbornly refusing to give over to the unconscionable, instead offering that better life, that better community – to others as well as ourselves.

we need all be brave. not the false bravado of the evil-intended, but the love-filled courage of people who are here – on this earth – working and living together, to sustain, to thrive.

*****

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of fire. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

there is a reverence of fire. it centers me into stillness, quiet time when much else slips away. just silently staring at its dance makes time – always vibrating – shift into slower motion.

there are moments – sitting in front of a fire – when you can feel that you are coming back to yourself. it is like the somethings that have been covered over, put aside, chucked away come forward and the fingers of flame burn off what hides it from your heart. the fire melts the rigid in you, pushes you past doubt, past angst, and beyond places that ache.

and suddenly we are a tiny bit open – more open than before – to the universe tapping our shoulder, to releasing the fear of being raw, to cracking open the vulnerable, to receive gifted divine intervention, to maybe-just-maybe wings to Back.

“may courage

cause our lives to flame,

in the name of the fire

and the flame

and the light.”

(john o’donohue)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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carry forward my dad’s good. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

my dad went missing-in-action in world war II when my mom was expecting their first child. she gave birth to a baby girl who died later the same day – still while my sweet poppo was missing-in-action.

later, my dad was declared a prisoner of war, held captive, shot down over the ploesti oil fields of romania, taken prisoner in bulgaria.

my dad – who would have been 104 last week – had enlisted in the army air corps of the united states because he was invested in protecting the world against the rise of fascism and its horrors. despite having a brand new bride, he risked his young life to push back against authoritarianism, never wavering, courageous and stalwart.

to think that anyone related to my dad would vote then for a fascism-dreaming candidate to be the president of this country would be a slap in the face of my father, a wave of the hand dismissing his time as a soldier, missing-in-action, as a prisoner of war.

my dad was the good. he participated in an effort that was necessary to keep our democracy, to help the world regain some solid footing, to expose the terrors of extremism.

and now, with absolutely no uncertainty, i will do my part. i will carry forward his good.

i am not on the front lines, fighting a war or in the throes of bombing or intense strife. but i am living in these united states- a country divided like no other time. i am sickened by what i see in the maga candidate, the maga agenda – the hatred, the bigotry, the propaganda – intentions borne of the extreme, of the self-serving, of all manner of prejudice.

i know – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that my dad and my mom are casting their votes for this election from the heavens above.

they are calling from that other plane – no, they are shouting from that other plane – “BE THE GOOD!!!” they implore us.

i will not turn my back on the sacrifices of my father, the terror my sweet dad experienced. it is with gratitude for his service to our country – and with gratitude for the service of all veterans – that i vote for the continued democracy of these united states.

my vote will be for kamala harris and tim walz.

yes, daddy, obviously.

be the good. elect the good.

*****

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ruth. less. ness. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

the spaceship hasn’t arrived and i am still – the tiniest little smidgiest iota of a bit – procrastinating. not entirely, but yes…enough. i’m wondering if there is such a thing as an estate sale while you are still alive and well and living in the house.

more so, i am trying to figure out which of the items in the house “spark joy” and which are me trying to hold too tightly onto those “items that trigger memories but which i can dispose of without losing the memories”. yiiiiiiiikes.

this is a process. 

it requires prep and thoughtful introspection, gearing up and gearing down, a camera and stoic ruthlessness.

i am approaching ruth – but i still have to get to less and ness, so there’s a little time left. 

but it’s happening.

yup.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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