October 14, 2019
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you are beautiful. [merely-a-thought monday]

i remember heidi telling me about a conversation she was having on a mother-daughter weekend with her sweet mom, among other mothers and daughters. they were sipping glasses of wine and started listing some of the things that were disconcerting to them about themselves.

we women (and men) have all done it. we are sitting smack in the middle of a society that puts great value on appearance and youth, rather than the wrinkles of wisdom, the not-perfect-shape of having children and nurturing families, the heart-showing-on-our-face that has learned great empathy through the years, the grey hair of hard work and compassion. and so we complain about the obvious changes we are going through.

i have looked in the mirror numerous times and thought, “wait! hold on! that is NOT how i look!” followed closely by, thinking, “it must be the lighting! good grief, why do they use these dreadful florescent lights? where are the soft white light bulbs? what about indirect lighting?! haven’t they invented soft focus mirrors yet?? umm, i prefer my photos over-exposed, thankyouverymuch.” we are hard on ourselves. understatement.

instead of recognizing the beauty, the light in our eyes, the smile lines on our faces, the brow of concern, we list to the negative. we do not look like the photoshopped version in the magazine; we cannot measure up to the three-or-four-decades-younger version of even ourselves. life changes us. why is it so easy to minimize ourselves and so difficult not to maximize what those changes have brought?

heidi’s mom interrupted the conversation. she gently stopped the flowing list of self-deprecating complaints. and she said, “you will never be more beautiful than you are right now.”

we passed this spray-painted graffiti in chicago. i grabbed the phone out of my purse and tried to quickly capture it. my finger blurred part of the image and i ruminated after on how i had ruined the photo. and then i realized that no, indeed i had not ruined it. for that blurry flaw in the photo would remind me (much better than were it not to be there) that we were walking fast down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, trying to capture the photo inbetween lots of traffic, laughing and excitedly on our way to see The Boy. that blurred sixth of the photo – a photo that was not perfect – would remind me of that day, imprinting in my life right then, the reminder timely and empowering.

you are beautiful. right now.

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

October 11, 2019
by kerrisherwood11 2 Comments

and now. the song. who knew? [k.s. friday]

the sun set on another day on island. and the moon rose. who knew?

four years ago, when david walked down the aisle to this song, who knew? who knew what would come, what adventures would appear, what challenges would rear up, what tiny moments would tear up in our eyes, what heartaches would befall us? who knew? who knew what chaos would reign our world, what gentle calm would envelop us, what times with family would look like, what times without loved ones would feel like? who knew?

four years ago, when david walked down the aisle to this song, we were decades younger, starting out all over again, baby-stepping into an unknown, beguiling, mysterious future. who knew? who knew the times of decisions, of direction-choosing, of sacrifice, of abundance? who knew the dances we would dance, the cries we would cry, the pages of life filled with, well…life? who knew?

there we stood, last night, on the back porch, white happy lights glowing on the railing, watching the moon rise over our little bay, high in the sky, gigantic, tiny hog island in the distance. we wondered aloud, in wonder, about the wonderment of it all. who knew?

and now…….looking forward…..outward….onward….with great love….

download AND NOW on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

AND NOW ©️ 2015 kerri sherwood

October 10, 2019
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and now. the painting. [d.r. thursday]

this painting is magical. it is the stuff of dreams, the stuff of hope, a vision of the future, the thready sharing of life and love. it looks more to me like flying than resting and, perhaps, as the wedding gift that d gave me four years ago today, it was prophetic. with the presence of mountains and a daisy, holding hands, embracing, perhaps dancing in flight, it is what we knew then.

what we know now is so much more.

our journey, our flight, together has, in its rawest form, a newness. meeting smack-dab in the middle of middle-age has its interesting elements. not that either of us is rigid…oh, no….of COURSE not. but when you are nigh 60 years old you do have your ways of doing things. add to that the fact that we are two artists artist-ing together. sheesh! there are some lively chats in these here parts. and to feel like you are starting over again – in your middle 50s – is time-warpy. there’s a lot to learn…but i guess that’s always true.

i have to say that i have never argued as much with another person. i’m quite sure that we agree the sign we purchased on our honeymoon in the mountains of colorado says it all, “you are my favorite pain in the ass.” it goes both ways. we definitely have a full-spectrum of emotions together. we are the best at disagreeing; we are the best team together.

i’m eternally grateful for this gift. i cannot adequately put this into words, so it must suffice that – this is the man i skip with.

i have no idea where this journey with mountains and daisies will take us. we are open to the mystery as we continue this amazing flight. allways. always. magical.

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

AND NOW ©️ 2015 david robinson

October 9, 2019
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little-baby-scion sisu. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

for starters, i was raised by beaky and pa. my sweet momma and poppo grew up in the time of the depression, born in 1921 and 1920, respectively. so my propensity to turn the shampoo bottle upside down and squeeze the last ever-lovin’ drop out of it – till there are no more molecules left in the bottle – is something i come by honestly. my momma may not have been the inventor of the soap sock or the wait-and-save-this-new-thing-for-something-special but she had it all down pat.

and so, it seems to run true that i do not easily replace stuff with brand-spanking-new stuff. our stove/oven is over 40 years old; it still works and why fill up the landfill with yet another stove/oven? i know that a new stove/oven would probably grace our little kitchen with more flare, but then the whole kitchen would have to be re-done around the new appliance.

among other clothing items i can carbon-date, i have, in my closet and drawers, clothing that was my girl’s or my boy’s – sport sweats or t-shirts, jeans or even shorts – not only do those connect me to memories with them, but, sheesh, why not? i have shoes from waaaaay back, not hoarding…really. the last time i bought a pair of shoes – other than my infamous old navy flipflops – was a few years ago, the black suede boots with fringe were on clearance and i couldn’t resist. i have worn the heck out of them.

and that brings me to little-baby-scion. a 2006 model, this little toastermobile is scrappy. equipped with few amenities, there is far less equipment to break on this little vehicle. (i turn to knock on wood as i write this.) this scion has been a rock – taking me/us cross-country to see my sweet momma when she was struggling, to see our girl in the high mountains, our boy on the east coast. it drove babycat home from florida, dogdog home from the other side of wisconsin and was our luxury vehicle of choice on our honeymoon. it kept me safe driving cartons of cds to concerts and wholesale shows. it has withstood ferry rides to and from the island. through rain, sleet, snow and ice it has prevailed. every time we get in, especially on a long-drive-day, we root, “you go, little baby scion!”

and so the other day i asked d to take a picture as it landed on this mileage. no real reason, just gratitude for something that has been lasting and lasting. i have no real drive (no pun intended) to have a new lavish car nor is it necessarily in the budget at the moment to replace something that doesn’t need replacing. little-baby-scion rocks and packs like a u-haul. and is now joined by big red, our 1998 ford F150 pick-up. we celebrate both of them, inanimate, yes, i know. but still…

today i just want to say – way to go, toyota! way to make a vehicle that is dependable and trustworthy. it’s a sturdy little car, full of sisu.

and, the best part, around some design table at some point in the early 2000’s, i can picture some 20-something saying, “hey! let’s put blue lights under the dashboard. we can do away with map lights and light people’s feet.” yes! the real merits of our sweet scion.

keep goin’, little-baby-scion!

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

October 8, 2019
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windsong of the flags. [two artists tuesday]

“So welcome the wind and the wisdom she offers
Follow her summons when she calls again
In your heart and your spirit let the breezes surround you
Lift up your voice then and sing with the wind” (john denver – windsong)

the ferry raised up on the crest of the wave, angry sea all around us, the wind howling. then, just as smoothly as it rode the way up, it trounced down into the trough between the waves. the water rose over the ferry, splashing all the cars and running down the deck toward the stern. the wind kept howling.

it was a day like that. flags at 90 degrees, parallel to the ground. our prayer flags have seen many like that; the wind has tattered them. prayers have been released into the universe with gentle breezes; prayers have been thrust into the universe with forceful winds.

i tend to prefer the days without tempestuous winds. the lake has an uneven surf on those turbulent days, the rhythm as they hit shore not intuitive or familiar and one that i find unsettling.

yet i am reminded that this same wind i face down at the shoreline is also the wind at my back. it is the wind of wisdom and movement. the wind that carries me away, the wind that surrounds me with those who have gone before me, the wind of growth and courage.

and so, i welcome the wind. i watch as so.many.prayers. are freed to fly. i give thanks for the gusts, unfettered dreams and wishes, each step aided by the wind.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

October 7, 2019
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when we all do better. [merely-a-thought monday]

blank. it’s blank. this book i carry with me. it’s a journal, but i’ve never ever written in it. created by sue bender, the plain and simple journal has photographs of amish quilts and the shortest snippets of writings, many gleaned from time that sue spent in an amish community. i’m not sure why i haven’t written in it; perhaps it is a very-prolonged beaky rule – to save it. i do know that its pages have both comforted me and made me think. perhaps my own writing-on-these-pages would distract me or, once the pages are filled with scribble, it will detract from the printed snippets and fall out of i-carry-it-with-me grace. either way, it’s blank. and it’s profoundly wise.

“an amish woman told me, ‘making a batch of vegetable soup, it’s not right for the carrot to say i taste better than the peas, or the pea to say i taste better than the cabbage. it takes all the vegetables to make a good soup.” (sue bender)

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“to reconcile our seeming opposites, to see them as both, not one or the other, is our constant challenge.” (sue bender)

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“we all do better when we all do better.” (paul wellstone)

for where is it that we can not glory in another’s success, mourn with another’s failure, weep with another’s grief, dance with another’s bliss? we share the space. in community. not division.

we share the ride – we are all vegetables in the soup – we are not one or the other – and yes, we all do better when we all do better.

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

October 4, 2019
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the pink. [k.s. friday]

there is a moment when the sky turns a delicious shade of pink as the sun sets in the western horizon. each beyond-the-crayon-box-color doesn’t last long; they morph into the next color and then the next. each second, as you watch, counts.

there is a moment when before-night turns into after-day. crossing the pink.

“live in the present/grab onto this time/don’t look behind you/you gotta walk that thin line/of the future and the past/it’s all within your grasp/that second could come way too fast”

there is a moment – one that probably occurs multiple times a day – when you can choose how to react to things. you can linger in the not-taking-it-personally-they-are-hurting-you-not-because-you-are-you-but-because-they-are-them zone or you can step over the line and bite back. crossing the pink. everyone in relationship recognizes this. any relationship, be it spouse-spouse, significant others, parent-child, child-parent, colleagues, supervisor-employee, employee-supervisor, drivers stuck in traffic, customer-customer service rep, strangers in a long grocery line. not biting back doesn’t render you powerless; instead, in the hardly-ever-easy not-taking-it-personally, it aids in your health and well-being. you choose. crossing the pink.

“you look in the mirror/today’s world stares back”

there is a moment – a split second – when you stand still and see all that was behind, all that is here and now. it is impossible to see all that is possible, for surely if you were back many pink crossings ago you would not have imagined the now of now.

and so, this split second should tell us that we have no idea, that our imaginings of the future are both wildly over-feared and inconceivably understated, that with each split-second breath we take, we cross the pink into another split-second that is filled with hope of new. but sheesh, we are human and we are worried, fearful, guilt-ridden, persistently trying to figure out what we did wrong to elicit ‘such a response’, repeatedly weighing everything, sorting, feeling powerless.

what if we stayed in the moment of delicious pink, watching the sun promise rest and a new day.

“take it slow/don’t let this moment go/it’s here and it’s now/use this gift somehow”

purchase the CD AS SURE AS THE SUN or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

IN A SPLIT SECOND from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood

October 3, 2019
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our good angels. [d.r. thursday]

we sat, broken down, during commuter hour, just north of milwaukee, in the fast lane of I-94. big red had stalled and would not start.

d called to me on the walkie-talkies i always insist we have with us when we are driving separate vehicles. i was car lengths ahead and had moved from the fast lane back into the right lane in sudden stopped traffic when he said, “k.dot! i’m broken down!” i took the next exit, drove back north on the highway, took the exit after i saw him sitting in the fast lane, cars backing up in stopped traffic. i eventually made my way to be right behind him. sitting in the fast lane of the interstate with angry commuters approaching and trying to resume their 75mph to no avail is not my idea of a fun time. the police officer soon got there, and it was a great relief when he pulled behind us with his lights on, effectually calming things down and blocking us from oncoming traffic.

and there we sat, broken down in spirit as well as mechanically. we looked like the beverly hillbillies and i would have drawn the comparison aloud, but i fear that the police officer was too young to understand the reference. big red and little baby scion were both full of stuff, for we were moving off-island and back home. dogdog and babycat were in the scion with me, none too pleased with the sounds of traffic.

while waiting for the tow truck, d, with no success, occasionally tried to start big red. and i, of course, while relaxing, stationary, in the fast lane of the thruway, texted jen, mistakenly panic-dialed my girl and wendy when i was trying to reach roadside assistance and googled reasons why an F150 would turn over but wouldn’t start after a sudden stop. i, channeling my sweet poppo, decided it was the fuel filter or something to do with that, not that i could do anything about it. i just liked trying to figure it out. and i had nothing but time on my hands. big red hadn’t had a lot of gas in it on island and we had just filled the tank a couple hours before this happened. my guess (truly just a guess!) was that when big red stopped suddenly, sediment that had collected in the gas tank temporarily blocked the fuel filter. sounded plausible to me, dogdog and babycat, both of whom had great investment in my figuring it out.

about 45 minutes into the wait for the tow truck, big red decided to give up the game and started.

the very-nice police officer got us off the highway and we all stopped in a parking lot to chat about our fun time together.

we googled back roads home and while we were slowly driving these back roads, d crackled over the walkie-talkie to me, “well, i wish that our good angels would make something good happen.” i answered, “maybe they just did.”

angels are indeed all around us. it is possible, of course, that there was a reason not to be on the highway at that particular time. maybe there was a reason we needed to pause in our trip. perhaps there was a reason we should drive the back roads home. surely, there was something.

we pulled into our driveway safely about two hours later.

i don’t purport to understand this watercolor WRESTLING WITH AN ANGEL. i, instead of wrestling with angels, will express a gratitude for all the ways we remained safe in an event that could have had many difficult turns.

thank you, our good angels.

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

October 2, 2019
by kerrisherwood11 Leave a comment

what’s important. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

in the last few days, both of us have heard the deeply sad news that someone in our lives – each a unique voice of great wisdom – has passed. it’s bracing. we are here and then we are not.

in all the difficult moments we have had these past months, both on-island and off-island, these past few days once again remind us of what is actually important.

it’s not the work challenges or politics. it’s not the worry over details and relationship snags. it’s not competition or one-upping someone else, nor is it about power-struggles and issues of control. it’s not about being undervalued or serving those who do not appreciate you, nor is it about the tippy-top of the ladder where lower rungs are no longer visible to you. it’s not what you don’t have or what you wish you had.

instead, it’s what you do have.

it’s the simplest of moments. when you look over and dogdog and babycat are butt-to-butt snuggling. or you are sitting next to your beloved, writing or reading together. or your grown children call to chat a bit, out of the blue. you spend time together. you do good work and stand in it. or you take a walk, in fresh air, under a sunlit sky or in a night full of stars. you savor a hot cup of coffee or raise a glass of wine in a toast with friends. you embrace or hold hands with someone you love. the simplest.

with gratitude to a man, alan walker, who encouraged me to love both the piano and open-faced peanut butter sandwiches. and my thanks to a man i never met, quinn, who, in innumerable conversations in his study, brought many moments of wisdom and perspective to david. you both remain reminders of what is really important.

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

October 1, 2019
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the first fire. [two artists tuesday]

there is something about firsts. a novelty. and it was no different the first night – a week or so ago – when we lit the wood burning stove in our littlehouse. the first fire of fall. excited, we watched as the fire got hotter and the bigger pieces of wood started to catch. as it all started to be aflame, the chill, that a grey misty fog, an angry lake and a stormy day had created, left the littlehouse. we sank into the new warmth of the living room, our feet up and grins of satisfied appreciation on our faces, staring into the dancing fire, grateful for its presence. at home we have a fireplace inside, and a chiminea on our patio, but no wood burning stove. it’s a novelty for us.

how many times will it be before getting wood for the stove and starting the fire will not be as gleeful? how many times before we don’t just sit with our feet up and stare into those flames? how many times before we take it for granted, this divine little maker of fire and warmth? how many times before the novelty wears off?

i once read a card i found quoting marcel proust, “the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeing new sights, but in looking with new eyes.”

because the novelty does wear off. in all arenas, i suppose. not just in how you see others, but also in how others see you. suddenly it is forgotten what IT was like before you (whether IT is a home, a relationship, a community, a work environment). instead, the novelty has faded and so has the ‘before’. suddenly, you – in any of those places – are just a bean counter, a placeholder, and the novelty of you, for we are all novel, is no longer a matter of interest or value. instead, all becomes black and white, the relationship of you to those places – a home, a relationship, a community or a work environment. i wonder what we are all missing with our under-appreciative eyes. i wonder what they are all missing with their under-appreciative eyes. the novelty is gone. and you have thus become dispensable, all for the lack of new eyes. wow. ouch.

we need take stock of what is around us and how it all works together. before it is gone. we need remember that -in every arena- we should appreciate each other – as if it was the first fire of the season.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

the second time we lit the stove, we weren’t quite as gleeful when the flame caught. and the stove heated up the room a little too much, making

reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: david robinson paintings

you are beautiful. [merely-a-thought monday]

and now. the song. who knew? [k.s. friday]

and now. the painting. [d.r. thursday]

little-baby-scion sisu. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

windsong of the flags. [two artists tuesday]

the pink. [k.s. friday]

our good angels. [d.r. thursday]

what’s important. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

the first fire. [two artists tuesday]

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