reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: goodness


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the small ways. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

“positive cultural change today (as it has always been) is about leveraging your life where you are: by doing small, possible, measurable daily acts of decency, of protest, of advocacy, of collaboration.” (john pavlovitz)

the bumper sticker read: “kindness is an act of defiance.“

in a country with an administration that is leading the way on trying to make people believe that kindness is weakness and wokeness and various other nouns, being kind seems an infinitely easy way to push back.

i have been astounded to see people i know and love spew words of hatred aligning with this administration’s mounting display of cruelty. it would seem that they have plucked kindness and decency out of their hearts. it is my hope that this plucking is not permanent. it is my hope that a vigor – to help people, to collaborate with people, to share rights and freedoms with all, to advocate for those who are in need – will return at some point. but cold hearts become rigid quickly and their version of defiance seems to be complicity with the authoritarian vision.

and so we sit on the deck with dogga and talk about it all. we talk about our own plans. we ponder how we might make a difference, besides writing and writing and writing. we copy lists of things that are needed by local non-profits and organizations aiding people. we sort needs and wants and prioritize as responsibly as we can.

and we wander around the backyard, looking at the phenomenal growth of our herbs, the tropical-like burst from the flowers and the grasses and the sweet potato plants. we are grateful for this tiny place of earth that is ours. even in our own lack and thriftiness, we are grateful for our own abundance. in our own tiny yard, we snip basil for homemade pizza, cilantro for chili, parsley for red pesto, tiny cherry tomatoes and jalapeño peppers.

we cook, we clean out, we give away. we hike, we photograph, we write. we pay attention to little details. we try to find the small, possible, measurable ways to create culture change.

to be where we are and be defiant.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

“HELPING HANDS” 53.5″ x 15.25″

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the tenacity of a soul. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it continues to peel back. each rainstorm, each gust of wind, the ice and snow of winter, the baking hot sun…they all have impact. and the layers of barney keep peeling back. every iteration of this piano reveals its soul, a soul that never changes. despite disappearing obvious visual cues that say “piano” it is still a piano. the keys are virtually gone now, but remain, nevertheless, in essence. the stand that held music way earlier in this past century of its life has broken down. the sheen of lacquered varnish highlighting the grain of the wood has faded, melting into rays and raindrops. changed, barney is unchanged.

i wonder at the tenacity of such a soul. i wonder at the steadfastness of spirit. i wonder at how much more beautiful it continues to get – each and every day – despite all it has endured, all it endures.

there is a piano in our basement. it is my growing-up piano. it is a spinet, completely out of tune, even with itself. we had it moved down there and then built walls around the stairwell that turns and turns again, 90 degree angles making a complete 180. that piano may never be able to be moved back up those stairs. but if it could, i would bring it outside. the journey that barney has taken – with flowers and plants and chippies and squirrels – has only enhanced its real presence in the world. if i could, i would honor this old piano – this relic of my growing-up – with this same weathering of time.

though currently exponential, like most generations before us, we are living in a strange and scary time. the facade of our country is being peeled back. yet, what we are finding beneath this shiny well-lacquered veneer is not wholesome or all-american. as the soul of constitutional goodness is stripped – layer by layer, right by right, freedom by freedom – there is an ugly that is revealing itself.

when the keys are gone and the music stand is gone and the sheen is gone and the wood is splintering, falling into the garden to turn to mush, what will we find at the center of this country?

i fear it is not stalwart like barney. it is not getting more beautiful. its endurance is limited. changed, it will be changed.

and its soul will be lost.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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we do both. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

in true escapism fantasies we are either touring around in a tiny rv or we are hiking the pacific crest trail. both speak to us.

there is an obvious difference – the physical nature of the PCT is a tad bit more taxing than pulling a little rv around behind us.

in my dream, we do both.

and we never look at the news.

ever.

we just ride – or hike – off into the sunset, toting the minimum of stuff we need. we write, we paint, we compose, we take photographs. we drink coffee made over tiny ultralight stoves by streams and sip wine in canyonland blm sites. we hold witness to day in and day out.

we remember what is good, what is gloriously beautiful, what is real.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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

104. in the moments i am writing this post – a couple days ahead of today – my sweet momma would have turned 104.

i wasn’t sure about using this photograph. it isn’t something we stumbled across when we were out and about; instead it is a photograph i took in my studio. but, it is an effort to continue an effort we are making – which, i might add, is a big effort considering the here and now – to list over to presence and gratitude for the other parts of the here and now…the real…the stuff that i simply cannot imagine that the rabid purveyors of cruelty ever notice. for, if one can see the stunning in the falling dusk or feel the heart-stopping of a simple james taylor song or taste the fresh basil in the stockpot of sauce, one cannot also relish the sheer and abject depravity of current events.

my sweet momma – always – her message to me, “live life, my sweet potato.”

and to that i would add – as i stood in the kitchen – his arms wrapped around me, with our birthday dog at our feet – “never, never, never give up.”

there is a visceral response – breathing – i have to seeing the wild horses in the documentary, the dueting voices in the music video. there is a fascination of the munching-munching caterpillars on our dill plant, the finch drinking from our birdbath, the tomato plant’s explosive growth, the jalapeños becoming peppers from tiny blooms. there is an appreciation of the eye-to-eye contact of our amber-eyed aussie, the feel of flipflops on a hot summer day, the wafting scent of basil on the air.

we didn’t go to any celebrations on the fourth. we did not feel that this very moment in time was aligned with commemorating the democracy and freedoms as written into the declaration of independence for these united states. this moment – instead – feels like the antithesis of all of that – the un-uniting of this country, the dismantling of freedoms, the fall of democracy. so we stayed home, away from the carnivals and the parties and the bands and the fireworks (though our neighbor set off fireworks right above our backyard for hours late into the night).

and this morning, while d was picking up the vestiges of those fireworks which, thankfully, did no harm to our home, i watched the caterpillars on the dill. while he brushed away the chalk marks of firecrackers landing on our patio, i watered the herbs. while he made doubly sure there was nothing pyrotechnic-like left that dogga could ingest or could cause him harm, i watched and listened as the birds returned on a refreshingly quiet morning.

we have a list. i mentioned it the other day. it’s simply a list – not far away – of places for us to go, to visit, things to immerse in. to do the best we can, right now.

to the top of the list i am going to add “never, never, never give up.”

because momma was right. live life. it is not unlimited.

sweet potato out.

*****

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

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it is time. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was rafiki who said, “it is time.” in a pinnacle moment of the movie the lion king, mandrill rafiki – an insightful spiritual guide – discovers that simba, the lion, is still alive and declares that he must return to the pride lands and restore order and balance. simba’s life force – to defeat evil, overcome adversity, to perpetuate a legacy of the interconnectedness of life – the circle.

it is time. it is way past time.

order and balance, goodness and kindness. the concentric circles of connection.

yes. way past time. already.

in these moments – the anguish-filled, agonizing moments before the figurative return of simba – we might turn to others – next to us – near us – far away though connected with invisible filaments of love and care – and say, “i am glad for you.” the tiniest message.

in these times of so much uncertainty, so much angst and pain, so much loss and grief, so much frustration and anger, it would seem that uttering five words might be a powerful salve. thought it may not change the heinous circumstances of our current world, it will wash over the person upon whom we whisper – or shout – these words.

it may be in the post “i-am-glad-for-you” moments that one is able to – once again, tirelessly, with great courage – reach deep inside to pull up bootstraps of bravery and pushing-back, bootstraps of protest and protection, bootstraps of generosity and altruism, bootstraps of humanity.

i am glad for you.

so, be weird – extraordinarily heart-on-your-sleeve weird – and tell all those people for whom you are glad that you are glad for them. i can’t imagine that not feeling good in your soul and i can’t imagine a response that does not carry the extraordinary, raw power of this message forward.

it is time.

way past time.

*****

“i see you. you are beautiful. i am glad for you. i am glad you are here.” (michelle obama)

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

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north stars. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we pulled up to the recycling tent to drop off the computer-type equipment we had – several old printers and associated cables and plugs. we had been looking forward to this event – an earth day event held locally – in order to continue the purge of stuff, but in the most environmentally-friendly ways.

there were a few people in the tent waiting to help and we really appreciated their work volunteering. they immediately moved forward to our vehicle to help us unload.

i got back into littlebabyscion and glanced over through my fully-open window to repeat our thanks. that’s when i saw one guy glaring at littlebabyscion and saying something to someone next to him. the focus of his gaze was undeniable.

i decided instantly.

“looking at our wheels, eh?” i addressed the guy.

he looked at me, surprised to be caught in the moment, “uhhh….yeah.”

“well, they may not be fancy but this little xb has faithfully driven 280,000 miles,” i bragged.

he stammered. “wow, that’s really cool,” he managed.

“yup,” i said. and then, pretty emphatically, “you can’t judge a book by its cover!”

i’m hoping he felt a little bit sheepish after we drove away. it is not likely, but i still hope he did.

now, to be fair, littlebabyscion’s wheels are the stuff of grimace-potential. the outer layer of aluminum alloy is both peeling and rusting – but, hey, so are we – after a few hundred thousand miles. we have plans to take a steel brush to these wheels – on a non-windy day – to clean them up a bit, make them less shoddy-looking, but it hasn’t been a top priority. glimmering, shiny wheels are not as important as some other tasks or chores, so babyscion’s rims just need to get in line. besides, LBS had really shiny rims back in the day – almost 300,000 miles ago. heck, even 100,000 miles ago there was still a bit of sheen. shiny is part of who LBS has been. so, i, for one, am not going to judge this absolutely amazing little vehicle for a bit of wear or a few wrinkles in the middle of dedicated and extended mechanical life. LBS has a really good heart.

we are relatively used to just being us – in a world of people trying to be more. we are artists, remember.

and so, we are people who have walked this walk – the one of being the book judged by the cover. we have also repurposed with fervor, made-do with less, driven with not-so-perfect rims. and we stick to the be-you mantra. we are not going to participate in the judging of books by their covers. we are going to seek heart. no matter the difference, no matter the sameness – we believe that being you – the best and most filled-with-goodness you – is all you can or should be. and we are here to lift you up in that. we are not going to grimace or glare or make snide comments at you in your pursuit of goodness. our job – as humans – with kindness and generosity and acceptance and grace our north stars – is to be us and to let you be you.

hopefully hearts are more important to you than shiny rims.

*****

GRACE © 2010 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

 

LBS…a few years ago….

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mustard seed stewards. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

like big red, it was an old truck – a pickup that has been around for awhile. in front of us driving down one of the main arteries in town, i was hoping that they would pull into the grocery store parking lot so that we could stop by their truck and tell them how much we liked their bumper stickers.

they kept going. so i never had the chance to tell them.

i feel like they don’t need to be told. they know. they know how important these gestures are – the reminder – in pride rainbow colors – that “equality hurts no one” and that we are all “human”. equality for all persons – regardless of gender identification, sexual orientation, race, ethnicity, nation of origin, religion, economic status. human – bones and flesh and organs and a heart and a brain. breathing in and out the same way, we are all human. well, maybe.

for the things we are witnessing these days – the cruelty and chaos – are most definitely subhuman, far below any expectation one would have for an administration that actually cares – read that again – cares – about its populace, cares for its populace.

today is cinco de mayo…a day to celebrate mexican culture and its rich heritage. though you may find yourself at the local watering hole having a margarita or donning a sombrero, it is a holiday more celebrated in the united states than in mexico. often misunderstood as mexico’s independence day, it is simply a local holiday in that country.

if you are having a margarita or some fish tacos or steak fajitas on this day i am hoping that you are also honoring the people of this country that runs along our southern border. courageous and hard-working, family-centered and wanting opportunity for a better, safer life – just like you or me – we must be careful to extend a helping hand, just as we would wish for in like circumstances.

if you have held a “mass deportation” sign in your hand or voted for someone who did i would ask you just exactly where your ancestors came from – for the vast majority of us, our family tree did not grow from seeds in the dirt of this country. our melting pot country’s origin is that of diversity – good grief! there’s THAT word!! we have all assimilated into this country, but we cannot forget that as humans – humans – we came from somewhere else.

it seems incumbent upon us as humans – humans – to be compassionate, to be benevolent, to be humanitarian. to buoy our fellow humans in the populace of this nation with intentions of equality and love.

i hope we see that old maroon truck around again one of these days. i just want to thank them for their tiny public statements, mustard seeds in a land where we – now, especially – need reminders and stewards of the potential for the growth of goodness.

*****

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

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what will happen? [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“sometimes hope is a radical act, sometimes a quietly merciful response, sometimes a second wind, or just an increased awareness of goodness and beauty.” (anne lamott)

he burst back in the front door exclaiming, “you have to go see!!”

for good reason.

the day lilies had poked through the leaves and dried stalks and, in the middle of all that brown – tucked up against the old brick wall – there was green.

the brick wall holds the warmth of the southern sun. nestled in that garden, the day lilies – an ordinary plant with nothing froufrou about it – were encouraged and nurtured. and so, even in the cold temperatures and the occasional snow flurry, the day lilies responded. gleefully. and their rising out of the dirt, their bright green of newness, gave me – us – hope. spring is here.

it would seem that people are not much different. there is a spring for ordinary people – with nothing froufrou about them – who are encouraged and nurtured. there is hope.

this country – filled with ordinary folks – has generally prided itself – congratulated itself – on its stance on human rights, on altruism, on its generosity of safety net programs. the melting pot that is the populace has been supported by a democracy that upholds humane values of fairness, equity, legality, goodness, kindness.

but it appears now we have been congratulating ourselves on something that was ticking its way out of existence, being usurped by intense greed and corruption, shallow conscience and deep-seated hatred. this source of our national pride is disintegrating right in front of us – being poisoned and stifled and ripped to shreds – and now it seems demolition is seconds away.

and there is nothing that the sun, the warm bricks, the insulating dry leaves and brush can do.

what will happen to the day lilies?

“hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. you wait and watch and work. you don’t give up.” (anne lamott)

*****

WATERSHED © 2004 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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every little thing. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“the sun is coming out,” i told him. “i can hear it on the siding.”

it will be the littlest things, i believe. the smallest details, the tiniest noticings that will help us personally get through this. much of what seems to be planned for the populace will affect us. according to project 2025 – aka this ugliest administration’s agenda – we are those people. we are the masses.

with no idea how low this will go – though we suspect “hellish” may not suffice as an adjective – we will need to zero in on that which might bring a moment of light, a bit of joy, a sliver of hope.

and it’s only been 43 days, 1 hour, 43 minutes and 23 seconds since the inauguration (as i write this.). by the time this publishes it will be 45 days, 18 hours.

if we can assume that there will be another inauguration – and that seems a large assumption considering how far down the authoritarian hellhole we are being flung – it will be in 1417 days, 22 hours, 14 minutes and 8 seconds (as i write this), 1415 days, 18 hours by the time this publishes.

that’s a very long time. and a lot of hell between here and there.

i am holding a lot of stress in my body right now. merely blowing my hair dry this morning yielded a strained back intercostal muscle, making it hard to breathe. each day there is something that makes it intensely clear that i am not relaxed, the least of which is waking up achy every morning – even after a full night’s sleep. i trust i am not alone in this. we are all enduring serious worry and anxiety, raging anger, intense grief, raw fear. there is no real way for our minds or hearts or bodies to escape it.

but we try.

and in looking for the most meditative time, in looking for joy, in holding onto laughter and playfulness best as we can, in paying attention to the beauty right around us, we will seek out anything and everything that might help, any sign of comfort, any inkling of something positive.

so when i could hear the siding creaking – a sure sign that the sun was coming out from behind the clouds, it seemed apt to mention it.

because every little thing counts right now.

*****

TAKING STOCK copyright 2010 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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not all-that. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

because sometimes you need a gentle reminder that you are not all-that and, for that matter, neither is anyone else, there was this moon.

we are the tiniest.

and out-there is the most-vast.

our tiny lives will someday be but a fraction of a fraction of the smallest division of time itself. there will likely be no one in the time-down-the-long-long-road (if there is a time-down-the-long-long-road and we haven’t destroyed our planet first) who will remember us or refer to us, pine for us or credit us with anything.

as i stood in the kitchen, tears streaming down my face – grieving for this earth, this world, this country, this community, this extended family – i slowly – very, very slowly – calmed down enough to breathe. and when i breathed i could feel my feet. standing on the old wood floor of our old kitchen in our old house.

and even though my grief was still there – the ache inside my heart palpable – and all that had happened – long ago and not too long ago and the very day my feet were planted on the floor – was still the truth of what happened, the ugly cry that had taken over my body started to ease up.

and i could feel d’s arms holding me and dogga nudging my leg and i was back from that place where nothing feels right.

there is much to grieve. we all have burdens, sheer disappointments, heartbreak, things that frustrate us out of our gourd. we have been hurt and we have hurt others. we share these commonalities. there are none among us who skate through life unscathed and not-scathing. it is humanness. there is no human who may escape this, no human gender or race or ethnicity or religion or ladder rung or any other identifying characteristic that is above this, that is impervious, that is best.

for any one of us to be cavalier about hurting another, to be flippant about minimizing others, to be complicitly silent in the face of malfeasance, to cheer on immorality or a lack of decency is to forget how very tiny we each really are. to distort what being alive is.

this extended family, this community, this country, this world, on this earth – our time is finite. perhaps we should spend it in goodness and not evil. bound together by that which we all have in common:

we all breathe in and out the same way standing here under the sliver of moon in the vast sky of the vast galaxy of the vastest universe.

it would do us well to remember that.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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