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like pond scum. [merely-a-thought monday]

“one thing i can’t comprehend is how hungry people are to consume lies.”

disconcerting?

while i’d love to say that this – “how hungry people are to consume lies” – is merely disconcerting, it wouldn’t begin to express how shocking this is. people in this country are, seemingly, not just hungry to consume lies. they are ravenous to consume lies.

i suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. it is the basis upon which the national enquirer and other such tabloids are sold in vast quantity. it is the in-line-at-the-grocery-store appeal of juicy gossip, falsehoods, lies and machinations of true stories. people soak it up. having no desire to see doctored photos or absurd stories i have never once purchased any of these.

the last four years, especially, have proven, time and again, that this country is full of sponges. in my mind’s eye, devotees to the current president sit at the ready, next to a scummy pond, thirsty. the wind blows a slight breeze across the surface and the green water ripples. the populace alerts to the movement of pond scum and, like chore boys fresh out of the package, suck up the mindless babble, the intentional lies, the aggrandizing rhetoric, the dangerous narrative. never does it occur to them to fact-check, for the pond scum has clearly clogged the arteries to their brains and they are too lazy to question what they are hearing. instead, they jump-jump-jump on the dyin’-to-be-lyin’-also bandwagon and ramp it up, full steam ahead. and the rest of us stand back and are astonished, yet again, over and over, at their hook-line-and-sinker devotion to something so nasty and self-serving.

it comes as no surprise then, most especially since the current president has advertised his malintent for months now, that these people-of-the-populace have gathered onto the fraudulent-election-wagon. they have soaked up the scummy messaging and have made it their own; conscience, nonetheless truth, has not entered the equation. their unmasked fervor is making them each big fish in little ponds; their words are reverberating in minds lacking of questions, devoid of analysis.

what is gained by the re-telling of lies? what is the endgame of this fantasy, this dive into psychosis? what is the point of this mean-spirited, predatory piranha of the truth?

perhaps it is of solace to them that their pond scum, a living organism, is good fertilizer and can be used to add important nutrients into, say, compost.

much like manure.

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


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it’s my *hand*. [k.s. friday]

there is nothing certain. nothing totally black or white. but this morning i am in the middle of the grey; fog has closed in and nothing is certain.

in a few hours i will know more. i will know what has happened to my hand and wrist. having already healed fractures from two broken wrists ala snowboarding this winter, i will know what changed the day that i fell recently – a serious fall, hard and directly on my reflex-outstretched hand – on an unmarked wet floor.

soon i will know why it aches constantly, why i can’t extend near an octave, why i can’t pick up my cat or the bucket to wash the car, why i can’t bend my wrist forward more than 5 degrees.

i’m pretty tough when it comes to pain; my threshold is pretty high. usually for me, it’s just a matter of dealing with it and getting used to it. and then i adjust. and people around me don’t actually know that there is any problem because i am making do.

but *this* is different. this is what i do. this is how i make a living. this is my profession. it has always been my profession. i am an artist – and a human with opposable thumbs – and this is my *hand*.

and so i am anxious to know what this hand specialist says, what he recommends, what he forecasts as the route for rehabilitation from this new injury, the arc for healing, the possibility for playing, the chance to ‘have my hand back’.

because, as i told david when we were walking on the trail the other day, this is not short term. this is long term.

there are wooden stages i want to play on, albums i might consider recording, babies i want to pick up, cars i want to wash. there are potatoes i want to mash, hand-whipped whip cream to whip, songs to write, doorknobs to turn, manual cars i want to shift. there are cellos i want to play, dishes to scrub, leaves i want to rake, jars i want to open, hard-to-reach spots on my back i want to scratch. there are boxes i want to be able to pick up, moves i want to help with, conducting batons to hold, guitars i want to fingerpick, waterski towropes i want to hold. there are bikes i want to ride, yoga positions i’d maybe like to try, reins i want to hold, clay pots i want to throw, my strong dog i want to walk on leash, mountains i want to try scrambling up. there are warm gloves i want to wear, rings i want to put back on, glissandos to execute.

but i can’t.

this is no small list. this is no small thing. this is my hand and my wrist and, like you, i have taken it for granted. until now.

there is nothing truly black or white, but i am anxious to be out of the middle, that liminal space, of not-knowing.

oh, and i want to do cartwheels.

but, then, i’ve never been able to do those.

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

IT’S NOT BLACK AND WHITE from RIGHT NOW © 2010 kerri sherwood


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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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true colors. [flawed wednesday]

you can’t go back.

you can’t unhear it or unknow it or unsee it. in any circumstance. at any time. that, alone, gives me pause.

these times, amped up, when people have been foaming at the mouth and spewing vitriol, have been enlightening and have turned the spotlight on these wise words – words cautioning how we speak, how we act, what we do, what we condemn or uplift, what we profess.

decades ago i directed a youth choir in florida. they were performing in concert and their last piece was the song “true colors“. i purchased large swaths of different colored cellophane, body-sized sheets, which they held up in front of them as they sang, “and i see your true colors shining through. i see your true colors and that’s why i love you. so don’t be afraid to let them show, your true colors, true colors are beautiful…like a rainbow.” as they finished they let the cellophane in front of them gently drop to the floor, draping around their feet. exposed, in their own true colors, they stood.

we are exposed. the true colors are showing. and this nation is none too pretty. 71 million people in our country vehemently supported the current reigning president for the position of leader-of-the-free-world as 75 million voted for change. and now, the 71 million, led by their tantrum-throwing leader, are not letting the good man who won win.

i have been stunned time and again throughout the last few years as i watched people close and far, by proximity, by relation, by partisan lines, stand with a person who is as close to the definition of evil that i can point to in recent times. i have asked questions, i have researched, i have pointedly disagreed, i have been horrified.

where has the collective moral compass gone? or did i miss the memo that stated self-serving agenda was the sole soul choice on the menu?

it is astonishing to watch people line up behind a pathological liar narcissist. astounded time and again, i’ve been overwhelmed reading or hearing the words of the complicit comrades in his sociopathic administration. astounded time and again, i’ve been struck by the echoes of these same sentiments in people who i would have thought knew better. angry words rat-a-tat through the country like automatic weapons leashed upon non-followers. falsehoods and pretense, derogatory and snide, spread like rapid fire. a true lack of moral compass, lack of principle has led the corrupt way and 71 million people have jumped on the furious bandwagon, jumping up and down with unmasked glee, screaming the anger they have dislodged from the depths of their souls. it is staggering. and unforgettable. and utterly terrifying.

every thing counts. every word uttered. every action taken. every everything. those things do not just disappear, vanishing into a fog of wishing-it-different. instead, they linger in the universe and something shifts in what you know about others.

those words – the ones they pummeled you with – are hard to unhear. those actions – the ones with which they affected lives – are impossible to unsee. those ideals – the ones that align with the malignant soul who sits as the current president – are unbearable and simply cannot be unknown.

some true colors are just not beautiful like a rainbow.

read DAVID’S thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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round and round. [two artists tuesday]

“and the seasons they go round and round
and the painted ponies go up and down
we’re captive on the carousel of time
we can’t return we can only look
behind from where we came
and go round and round and round
in the circle game” (joni mitchell)

from the edge of the trail it seemed we stood in three seasons. with warm sun on our faces and verdant grasses poking through the golds of autumn aspen leaves, the snow sought refuge in the shade. three seasons. concurrent.

as we stood there, in the middle of the mountain trail, it all swirled together – then, now, next. a kaleidoscope of color, of emotions, of moments. the tiniest of tiny in a vast universe, all else suddenly became distant.

we lingered in the whirl of shifting seasons, viscerally aware of our breathing and the gravity that was holding us still. it was an eddy of every-thing: old wrinkled leaves of regret, fading transient dreams, life-giving air carrying us into the next minute, a metamorphosis of time. the ponies on the carousel kept moving round and round and we paused, our feet in the dirt, sensing the circle encapsulating us, giving us pause.

we stayed there a long time, the scent of decaying leaves in the woods, the sound of a rushing mountain stream, the breeze rustling past us, our faces warmed. for these moments, in the middle of the middle, all the worries, all the fears, all the unease, dropped off from our shoulders. the concurrence whispered to us, “and the seasons they go round and round.”

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


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yes.”time for a cool change.” [merely-a-thought monday]

the little river band sings it, “time for a cool change….i know that it’s time for a cool change.”

that’s for sure. on so many fronts.

the horizon looks promising…the sun setting on the toxic, the sun rising – now, tomorrow, soon – on a deep cleansing breath of new.

we could feel it in the air on saturday. we wondered if it was our imagination. there was something. something kinder. something more generous. something hopeful.

we felt it at the gas station, pulling in just as a pickup pulled in from the other direction. the pickup stopped, backed up and pulled around to the other side, the driver waving as i called my thanks out the open window. we felt it at the corner, turning to head to the park, the trucker waving us on instead of taking his turn. we felt it on the trail, people wearing masks, allowing distance, eyes smiling above their masks, hands waving. something was different.

time for a cool change. time for healing. time for unity. time for responsibility. time for leadership.

yet, the next day, in the wake of this deep breath, in the wake of a called election, in the wake of inspiring victory speeches, i could sense the waves of anger rushing to the shore. the grace of the day before was a little less pronounced, the relief a little less relieved. the pulse of the nation had quickened and there was a bit of uneasy quaking.

i sat this morning for a bit, reading the narratives of the angry. i read the fights that people were picking with others. i read both intelligent debate and angry spew, baseless rhetoric. i read attacks on people of the populace, people fuming at an election loss, verbally going after other voters, some barely acquaintances, ugly, threatening words of vitriol splashed across social media and the news. my brilliant son put it well when he wrote of the harmful mean-spiritedness of conservatives toward anyone who voted blue. he wrote of the marked difference between that and the reactions of the left, who have specifically directed their dismay to those committing the heinous and not to everyday people. he pointed to the difference in the celebratory reactions of the left vs the right. his words ring true. and, devastatingly, this violence, whether verbal, emotional or physical, is incited by this president, his administration and the party that sits there, silent, complicit. it is indeed time for a cool change.

it is unfortunate, but not really mind-blowing, that this current administration continues to dial up the temperature on this. it’s consistent. compassion and kindness, honesty and the democratic principles of this country are not part of the equation for a president who is still coddling his own agenda rather than seeking peace and health for this nation.

this country is exhausted and, while 71 million people voted for this president, 75 million voted for a new administration and new light. because it is *most definitely* *way past* time for a cool change. it’s time to move on.

yes, little river band, “you KNOW it’s time for a cool change.”

so we stand outside, our faces to the wind and take a deep breath.

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


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it is my hope. [d.r. thursday]

my beloved children,

in the last few years i have become increasingly vocal, doggedly writing about the politics of this nation. i have watched an administration sweep in wearing hatred and division on its sleeve, attempts to undermine and destroy any forward movement this country has made or has desired to make on so many fronts. i have decried their rhetoric, narrative of severing, narrative of bigotry, narrative of self-serving agenda. i have pushed back against the frailty of humankind and against the furthering of prejudice and discrimination of any sort, be it under the heading of race, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, economic status, religion. i have, time and again, asked to uphold what would make the populace safer in a raging pandemic. i have asked for leadership to be responsible, to be truthful, to be one with integrity, to prize virtue. i have raised up climate change and this good earth time and again. i have cited examples of inequality. i have been open and honest about my feelings and opinions, vulnerable to assault by those who do not agree. i have learned that’s ok.

in the last few years i have become increasingly vocal, doggedly writing about the evanescence of time, the impermanence of this very life, the beauty that rises with the sun. i have pointed to moments of joy, moments of devastating grief, moments of sheer bliss, moments to memorize. i have spoken of and to the ocean and of and to the top of mountains. i have drawn pictures in the sand and let the cool waters of high elevation streams run through my hands. i have described treasured moments with you, my children, with family, with friends, with my husband. i have been aware of how fleeting time is as it races on. i have learned that life is simply that – learning.

in this time it is my hope that this country will gather its resources into its national quiver and will lead forward with arrows of love and compassion. it is my hope that this country, like committed and passionately dedicated parents holding newborn life, will embrace each and every one of its citizens, holding and blanketing them with reassurance, with protection, with a promise of doing better. it is my hope that this country will offer to you – its children and its children’s children and its children’s children’s children – new times of peace, new times of equity, new times of profound and wise knowledge, new times of opportunity, new times of kindness, and that this will surely sweep across the land from the redwood forest to the gulf stream waters, from sea to shining sea.

it is my hope that you both, my amazing and brilliant daughter and my amazing and brilliant son, deep in your adventurous souls, will feel the freedom promised you in the universe. it is my hope that you speak your truth, that you speak for, that you speak against, that you speak up, that you speak out. it is my hope that you feel affirmed in your lives, strong and powerful, fiercely dedicated to every breath, tenacious, and both gently kind and profoundly vehement in the demand for justice and liberty. it is my hope that you feel unconditionally loved and cherished: by me, by partners, by family and friends, by this nation, by this very good earth. it is my hope that in the moments you take a deep breath and exhale you know that your presence in this universe is light itself and is truly making a difference…forever.

i love you,

mom.

***

view this painting SHARED FATHERHOOD on david’s virtual gallery

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

SHARED FATHERHOOD © 2017 david robinson


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cleaved. [flawed wednesday]

it was well-intended. the highland park library had a sign up with these words and i copied them down as we passed by. stay apart, stay safe and we will get through this together. a sentiment about the raging pandemic, it was momentarily reassuring.

but only momentarily.

for, really, we are more apart than together. we are more fractured. we are more divided than we ever thought. we are cleaved.

at this moment, each place i look i see the destruction of entities breaking in two, splitting. there is no reassurance for that. there can be no healing without truth, without compassionate, fair and decisive leadership. disparate sides will ultimately fight to the death, no eye to clarity, no ear to healthy conversation, no wisdom, no heart. just agenda, riddled with prejudice, with self-aggrandizing, with aggression, with inward nationalism-under-every-heading, surrounded by a protective cloak of complicity.

people put asunder. entities put asunder. the country put asunder.

if apart will bring us together, we are on the right track. if apart is just simply getting us through, we are beyond cleaved.

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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be nice, say hi! (duh.) [two artists tuesday]

“duh” went through my mind when we hiked past this sign on a high mountain trail in aspen. every time we hike – absolutely anywhere – we are nice and we say hi. that seems pretty basic. “what’s with the sign reminder?” i wondered.

most trails in high elevation are shared. hikers trek, mountain bikers bike and equestrians ride – all on the same trails. kindness, mostly, prevails. friendliness, mostly, is at the ready. in this covid-19 time, with some exception, masks are pulled up as people pass each other face-to-face; safety is, mostly, first.

but there is always that element. any where. those who do not share well. those who do not trail together. those who are not nice. those who do not say hi. those who don’t even wave. those who need reminding. those who need signs.

today is – finally, at long last, after an interminable political season – election day.

given the run-up to this day of threats of national security, of people in trucks chasing down buses from the other side, of the president threatening to sic the supreme court upon the election, of mistruths of voter fraud, of concerns about gun-toting and armed observers at the polls, of covid-19 superspreader rallies held by the leader of the free world in a country raging with pandemic, of any number of examples of malfeasance by leadership et al, it would seem that signs might actually be necessary. basic signs. signs to remind people how to be. signs posted in most kindergarten classrooms across the land, from sea to shining sea.

signs that say, “be nice, say hi!”

signs, well, freaking everywhere.

because people are exercising their right to vote. people are having a say in this country that we all share, so that people can trek and bike and ride, metaphorically speaking, all somehow together on the same highways, the same backroads, the same trails, in the same states, in the same communities, the same cities, the same schools and businesses and religious institutions, the same neighborhoods, the same workplaces, the same clubs, the same friend-groups, the same families, across this vast country. people are voting so that their voices are considered, so that they are included, so that they can share in this democracy.

on the never-ending, incessant, ceaseless, uninterrupted, tedious, wearisome campaign trail, maybe the signs would help.

“be nice, say hi!”

pretty basic.

duh.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY – you will love his last paragraph!!


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it’s time to vote. [merely-a-thought monday]

time is about up. it’s time to vote.

the wreckage of this nation is smoldering. ill-intention was unleashed on this country four years ago and it is time to douse the fires of hatred and division and suppression and aggrandized self-serving agenda. it is time to steer away from the fire. it’s time to vote.

the populace of this nation is trembling. adrenaline has pumped, non-stop, for the last four years and it is time to take a breath. it is time to reach with compassion and care across the obvious aisle of race, gender, sexual orientation, economic status, religion. it is time to come down off ladders of audacity, rungs that few ever touch; time to make the united states of america united as-best-we-can, time to stop the divisiveness, now pervasive everywhere. it is time to recognize that there is much work to be done, if we can even attempt to slightly level the playing field for each citizen in a nation that proclaims to be in the always-flux of forming a more perfect union. it’s time for healing. it’s time to vote.

individual voices in this nation are fading. this administration has ceased to listen. it has ceased to give concern to fact, to science, to medical expertise, to any one or any thing that gets in its narcissistic way. it is grounding down to stumps the stalwart voices of reason, the wise words of those with prowess, masters in their fields. and then, this administration grinds the stump into ashen piles of wood-soot, calling names, firing shots from the hip at masters in their careers, and claiming an autonomy on knowledge. it’s time to vote.

the democracy of this nation is at risk. the administration of the last four years has undermined it, assailed it, pummeled it, ripped it from its roots with nary a backward remorseful glance. truth has been shredded. diplomacy shattered. fear-mongering has come out of its dark cavern of danger. virtue is missing in action. it’s time to vote.

diana ross sang, “do you know where you’re going to? do you like the things that life is showing you; where are you going to? do you know?”

dave matthews answers, “vote. you want to be part of what’s steering our future.”

time is about up. it’s time to know. it’s time to steer. it’s time to vote.

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