reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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in the mirror. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

and when it comes to the end of the year – already – and we gaze into the shiny brite mirror of the year that has passed, what do we see?

on either december 31 or january 1 we will take out the calendar – the one i write in with mechanical pencil – every day – a few words jotted down, a tale of the day, a meal, a quote, a visit, an appointment, some moment i wish to remember. and we will sit with it in the light of happy lights and christmas trees. 

each year it is a journey – through that which we recall and that which we have forgotten. each year we find a treasure. each year we find something courageous. each year we find generosities that have sustained us. each year we find days that were hard and days that were easy. days of strength, days of weakness. we find sadnesses and unexpecteds. we find decisions and repairs. we find frogs and hawks and eagles. we find challenges of spirit and heart. we find recipes that have nourished us. 

we head into the new year – just a couple days away now – reflecting, ruminating – with thoughts of what to do differently, what to change, what to let go of, what to hold onto. we wish to be better, do better, feel better. we set intentions.

and – in looking in the mirror – we are harsher than we need be. we forget some of the rest. the moments inbetween all the lines in the calendar. the ordinary. the giving. the grace. the laughter and the light. the things i didn’t jot, didn’t remember to journal, or wanted to just simply let simmer in my heart without being written down. 

we wake – in a couple days – in a new year. each day a ridiculously big gift. beyond all else.

“may you recognize in your life the presence, power, and light of your soul…” (john o’donohue)

happy new year.

*****

GRATEFUL from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

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conked out. [two artists tuesday]

dogga babycat end of day

conked out.  it’s the end of the workday, the end of playtime, the end of the evening, the end of the month, the end of the year and they are conked out.  so are we.  with toys strewn about, they collapse on the floor, a wary eye on each other every so often, just making sure. but mostly, sleepy, eyes closed, soft sighs.

we feel the same way.  conked out.  it has been a year.  tomorrow we’ll search for some sage to burn on the first day of the new year, smudging room by room, letting the snuffed flame’s gentle smoke chase out the negative and allow new light in.

conked out.  it feels like a repeating theme…a basso ostinato…a foundation upon which we are all arriving at this last-day-of-the-year station.  exhaustion seems to be the grounding venn diagram of all those we have spoken with.  like lines of the composer john cage:  dissonant polyphony, indeterminate chance-filled melodies, questioning, shapeless and yet heading in some vexing conclusive direction.  2019.  confusing and atonal with a lack of rests, avant-garde, but in all the wrong ways.

as we approach the last minute of the last day of this year, we sneak a peek at the new year.  new beginnings.  we sigh. deeply.  looking ahead.

i glance at a small sign i have on the wall.  it is not without noticing the irony i read a quote from john cage, “begin anywhere.”  a good place to go from conked out.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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