reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: gratitude


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at home. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

a few years ago we watched a show about housing in the bay area of california. the housing crunch was producing outlandishly high rents, making it impossible for workers – particularly younger people at the outset of their careers – to live anywhere near where they worked. an answer – it seemed – was to offer sleeping pods – bunk bed pods stacked upon each other or next to each other – in a communal living space. with very mixed reviews to these confined space morsels, people moved in and made tiny personal space within communal living their home.

in the many years that our girl was working in the snow industry of the high elevation mountains, she – like every other professional snowboard or ski coach or instructor, every other industry worker from restaurants, boutiques, ski shops, etc – was faced with the impossible task of finding a place to live. costs far outweighed earnings and, so, either these dedicated employees shared spaces (often questionably-worthy of passing basic health standards) renting the rights to a bedroom and a shelf in the refrigerator or they drove extended commutes in all kinds of treacherous weather. it was nerve-wracking, to say the least, as a mom – ever concerned with the daily living conditions of her child (who was far more tolerant of the living conditions than i might have been). post-pandemic exacerbated these circumstances and rentals are scarce or aggressively priced.

for the longest time we have watched house hunters on hgtv. though there are many fix-up kinds of shows, our favorite is the basic house hunters where you watch people select a home to purchase from three homes you virtually-visit with them. you are aware that there have been many other homes considered before this ultimate decision, but you are steeped in the choice between three – with the information of their purchasing budget, their desired amenities and location and a walking tour through the house. it is astounding to us – over and over again – how much a basic house costs these days. we watch – totally immersed – and try to decide which house will be chosen, always blown away by what that choice will cost the buyers.

and each day – for a multitude of reasons – we thank our own home. its old house juju suits us. it is our sanctuary. it looks like us, feels like us, buffets us from the world and renews us. every one of its quirks – that we love – reminds us to love our own quirks. every one of its tiny beauties reminds us of our own tiny beauties. we find peace there and we find a jumping-off place for challenges and self-exploration.

and as i write this, i am aware that – if we are lucky enough to have any physical place we call home – we each make it into what we need. we embrace whatever its circumstance, its location, its imperfection or perfection. we find the space where we feel comfort and reassurance and the ability to be exactly who we are.

some day we would love to travel in an old vw minibus (or one of those amazing converted vans our son-in-law creates), carrying with us all we need for extended periods of time, seeking home in high mountains and canyonlands, deserts or meadowlands, atlantic or pacific beaches, northern forests.

some day we would love to thru-hike one of the national trails, carrying all we need in backpacks on our backs.

either way, i’m pretty certain – even now, even before we have tried either dream – we will feel at home, at peace, in our skin.

“remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you.” (rumi)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this DR THURSDAY

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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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streamers. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

though we love-us (as they say) a familiar trail, we found a new trail to hike recently.

it was a really windy day and we set out knowing we would not-know what we might find along the way. that – in itself – is one of the gifts of hiking. even on trails we know like the back of our hands.

i knew being a minister of music like the back of my hand. and, as the easter holiday just passed by, i thought a lot about the 35 or so easters for which i had been responsible – the decades i had shaped the music of these seasons. i always believed it was my job to help people connect to that which they could not see – thus, ultimately, to touch faith, to touch love.

a dearest friend of ours retired this past week. with great joy, we celebrated his new freedom and listened as he told about the party his colleagues had thrown for him. he told of their stories, their comments, their appreciation – it was a powerful validation for him and for all the time and energy and life he had spent working in that place. he finished with a flourish – full of affirmation – ready to walk into next. one door closed, others ready to be opened.

it brought up personal grief.

for my very last days – of that career – one of the professions in which i used my knowledge of music – that spanned three and half decades – these days were not lined with validation or gratitude or even a nod of thanks. instead – for me – they were fraught with being fired, what felt like a plethora of undistilled meanness, full of unanswered questions, betrayal and shock and – then – absolute quiet. an assault.

i never finished. there was no brunch, there were no casseroles, no sheet cake, no jello mold. there was no t-shirt, no mug to carry off and use each morning, warmed by the memories of time spent.

this was an awakening.

i suddenly realized that i wasn’t done.

for all the sorting and cleaning and throwing out, there was still something incomplete.

there was no flourish; there was no affirmation.

this was an epiphany.

since i can’t go back literally, there is something in me that wishes to find a way to closure. maybe it is to go back to this place we found on this new trail. to this gate that stands in the messy field of wild grasses next to the birch tree just a bit back from the meadow. maybe if i lift up that gate and just step – even just one step – into what is past it – what is on the other side – maybe it might feel – in some metaphorical-retirement-party-crepe-paper-streamers-strewn way – like there was a little flourish. that i will grant myself the validation, the affirmation – the acknowledgment of a great deal of dedicated time of my life – that others tore from me, disregarded – that i will know – deep inside me – that i gave that place – and all the 35 years in that particular spoke of my sedimentary-layered life of music – giant pieces of my creative soul and that i can finally – finally – leave the familiar behind and get about the new. whatever their agenda or issues – in an end that was not of my choosing – it should not detract from my own celebration of me.

i will never be a minister of music again. that part of my life – that arrow of dedication of the music within me – has finished. and – i was damn good at it. i understood it. i knew it like the back of my hand.

and now it’s time for a new trail.

right after i pull down all the streamers and toss them out.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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light-blue and blonde. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

somewhere around 1984 or 1986 or so i totally splurged on a dress. it had a background of light blue with puffed-up shoulders that narrowed along my forearm to my wrist, like a juliet sleeve. the bodice was fitted and the dress was knee-ish length. it was a pricey $35 and i wore it only “for good”.

i’m pretty amazed thinking about that treasured dress because i am not really a light-blue person. now, i love light-blue sky and light-blue robin’s eggs and light-blue forget-me-nots and the lightish-blue denim jacket that was my poppo’s, but light-blue in general is not a color i wear.

were i to wear it, however, i would have the tones of this photograph…reeds and sky on an early spring day.

i could have stood and stared at the reeds for a long time. as it was, i did stand and stare at them for quite a while, lost in the ballet that was driven by the wind.

and in those moments, i never once thought about what is happening in the world right now, the chaos and destruction. instead, i was dancing with the reeds, immersed in light blue sky and blonde plumes.

at this point, we are finding it necessary to try and escape our thinking minds. overwrought with angst is not a good way to spend time. so we step out of time and hike or cook or write or give belly-bellies to our dogga. we dream of places to go and trips to take and projects to embark upon. we continue to sort and clean out, donate and toss. we don’t – we can’t – spend every single waking moment trying to solve something that we – alone – cannot solve.

somewhere along the line i gave away that light-blue-puffy-shouldered dress. i wonder if someone cut it up for a quilt, much like i will do with a little-house-on-the-prairie type dress i remember absolutely loving in 1982 and which i found in the dress-up-and-pretend bin downstairs. that dress had big layered ruffles – which apparently are back in style. as a person who is now somehow always peripheral to trending fashion, it’s surprising to see flouncy ruffles out and about.

the dirt trail, dancing reeds and unlimited sky don’t seem to care what i wear. their light-blue and blonde gift is not simply lack of apparel-judgment or vogue-couture-wincing.

their gift is what they offer to us in presence. engaged in the ballet, the dress-memories, the air around me, i learn – once again – to stand still in the center of the moment.

and for that i am grateful.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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in an insane world. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

in an insane world, barney is sane.

barney has been stalwart, steadfast, unwaveringly standing in the garden through every infamous weather challenge – the rain, the sleet, the snow, the ice and the wind, the extreme heat, the drought.

it is one of the most gorgeous things in our backyard. we have watched it age, its wrinkles, its furrows, its jowls. we have watched it struggle to stay young, fresh, shellacked. we have watched it give in – to time and the elements. and, in that giving-in-ness, we have watched grace in real life.

in this insane world, i have thanked our old house and its painted-wood countertops, its old floors, its cracked plaster, its doorknob-less six panel doors. i have admired the tile floor in the bathroom and the way light streams in through the double-hungs. i have relished the paintings on our walls and the fabulous chunks of concrete that serve our living room. i have whispered to our house and i have thanked its familiarity and its comfort. i have taken refuge in its security. i have reveled in our comforter, our dogga at our feet, coffee by our side, happy lights. i have simplified need and put want to the side.

in this insane world, i have patted littlebabyscion as i get in and out, stroked big red as i have walked past it in the driveway. i have noted with great appreciation the wild geranium and the day lilies pushing up through cold dirt, the buds on breck. i have sat on adirondack chairs on the deck – still a bit bundled up – watching birds and squirrels, sipping wine and eating maybe too many chips. i have been grateful.

and i have gazed at barney-the-piano, over there, in the garden. i have felt it steadying me.

in this insane world, i have thanked barney.

“pardon my sanity in a world insane.” (emily dickinson – and barney)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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riding wild horses. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

david, mark and i stood by the dyed harbor in the wind. mark commented that he did not have a painting of st patrick’s day green, rusty brown, cement beige. we told him that he did now. because we had made it so – as we stood there – “totally looks like a mark rothko,” we opined as we viewed the photograph i had just taken. mark laughed – in that other-dimension way we imagined. i reminded him of green and maroon – and my dedication to this painting at the milwaukee art museum. he was amused and agreed that emerald, rust and cement was – maybe – a worthy addition.

david just finished a piece he painted for me. it is stunning, both visually and emotionally. a really large canvas, it will find a home in my studio, where i can be reminded of the freedom – of space, of life, of voice, of love – it represents.

i have always wanted a horse and so he gave me one. this painting. and you can see – by the repose of my face – how undeniably happy it makes me, the peace it bestows, breathing the very air of all the universe.

it is said that mark rothko sought to make paintings that would bring people to tears. “i’m interested only in expressing basic human emotions – tragedy, ecstasy, doom and so on.” as an artist, i cannot imagine any other reason to create other than to tap in, to elicit, evoke, to acknowledge human emotions.

when i stepped onto the floor of the basement – off the last wooden step – i stared at the painting in progress. it was potent for me. it was a painting of an arrival, of sorts. though David’s title is in dreams she rides wild horses, the reality for me is the wild horse of voice. it is the gallop of speech, the beginning of the release of silence, the horse i never yet had. i wept as i told him.

mark appeared suddenly, standing on the basement floor with me. he stepped under one of the studio spotlights and called over to d, “good work, robinson. way to make her cry.”

d looked surprised and glanced at me calling back, “thanks, rothko!” before i wrapped my grateful arms around him, “yeah, good work, robinson.”

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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nothing like it. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it is a tough time to travel. at least for me. i feel – well – safer at home these days. tucked into our sweet old house doing our thing.

but we had an opportunity to visit old friends, see new things, experience a different landscape. and we were fortunate enough to be able to take it.

this place we have traveled to – beautiful. another part of this stunning sea to shining sea. we move about airports with thousands of people – all different – with languages and accents and clothing choices and faces all swimming around us. such diversity. we can feel the riches of this melting pot.

and we miss home. where our dogga waits for us and 20 has dinner hot. where our studios and our pillows are. where no make-up and sweats are a default. where we sous-chef and cook side by side in our old kitchen, nourishing not just our bodies but our souls as well.

it doesn’t take new eyes to see it all. but the gentle reminder is always a good thing.

to go and come back.

nothing like it.

“the real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” (marcel proust)

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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on this christmas day. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it was the title that touched me: “staggering generosity”.

i opened the email a few days ago, a newsletter i hadn’t opened in quite some time. these words have been with me ever since: “don’t just love. astonish people with your love. don’t just dabble in generosity. live a life of staggering generosity.” (paul wesselmann – ripples)

in cleaning my studio this week i found a pocket-sized calendar my sweet momma sent me in 2007. there was a quote on the first page: “may you live all the days of your life.” (jonathan swift)

this day – each day – all the days.

tonight when the house was quiet again, we sat in the living room with the lights off. e.e. (our christmas tree) and our big branches were the only things illuminating the room. sitting in the glow, we were both lost in thought – steeped in gratitude – about this holiday, about this time, about these days.

i could feel the glimmer in the room. a vibration. palpable. like the fingertips of the universe brushing my skin. astonishing. and staggering. what better day than today?

and then we unplugged all the happy lights – ready to sleep on this christmas day.

*****

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

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even if, enough. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it snowed last night. there is a dusting on the deck and on the roofline that i can see out the window right now. even a dusting is magical. even a dusting is snow. even, if it were only a dusting, only this, it would be enough.

the snow earlier – in november – didn’t last long but – while it clung to the adirondack chairs – i went out, crunching through it, to take a photograph, to remember it. it was the kind that snowmen are made of. and, even if that were the only snow, only that, it would have been enough.

i am trying to learn the art of even if, enough. for right now. for this moment. for standing in this space, spinning on this earth in this solar system in this galaxy. the next moment is a mystery – on repeat – a measure of blank space, again and again.

you don’t just arrive there, we are not simply maestros of this art. it is – what i am seeing – a process like the tides. a little wave in, a little wave out. a grain of sand in, a grain of sand out. it is not simple but it is…actually.

it is the recognition – when you are feeling in right mind, when you are feeling more balanced, when you are not hijacked by outside influences – of the right now and a nod that even if….it is enough.

in this time, these times, our yearnings are real. and – as our world turns and we approach a time of far greater chaos than we have likely ever known in most of our lives – we can see that the even if, enoughs are going to play a big role in staying grounded.

it is a work in progress, i suppose, for each of us. we – mostly – live in societies where more is more and less is, most definitely, less. we are not typically validated in our less. we are not typically commended for finding value in less.

but it is the gift of the tide and time. you begin to realize that the tiniest pebbles that drop in on our personal shoreline are often the mica of life. you begin to realize that they balance out the grains of sand that are pulled out each time and tide.

and so i, maybe like you – am trying to be satisfied with – at peace with – the even if, enoughs.

even if we don’t have enough time with someone – but we have a tiny bit – it is enough. even if we don’t have enough stuff, newest stuff, trendy stuff – but we have a tiny bit – it is enough. even if we don’t have enough time – but we have a tiny bit – it is enough. even if we don’t have enough snow – but we have a tiny bit – it is enough.

though the even ifs make us – make it all – feel somewhat fragile, the enoughs are a good place to seek, a good place to live.

this dusting. wondrous.

*****

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

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a chandelier life. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

it is likely that we are captured by the minuscule much more than most. it truly doesn’t take much for us to be in wonder – or, at the very least, to spend a moment or two noticing something that maybe others might not notice.

our entertainment budget is pretty much non-existent. we love to cook together, hike together, write together, read together, on occasion argue together. occasionally, we will have the good fortune of going out for a meal or to a movie or maybe a concert. but most of the time we entertain ourselves in ways that don’t cost a lot and that’s all good.

a few years ago we decided that barney – the smith-barnes piano aging in our backyard – needed a chandelier over its brow. you might remember we found one online that works as a solar light and so we ordered it. it wasn’t expensive – i mean, for a chandelier! – and we were surprised when we got it in a small amazon bag. taking it out revealed a collapsed plastic “chandelier” that had to be shaped and would then hang in all its glory. it was not quite all-that nor what we had expected. we knew immediately it would not serve barney well and, in the process of deciding whether or not to return it, hung it on our awning outside for a bit.

that night the little chandelier glowed – like any good solar-powered ithinkican chandelier – and we fell into like. and we decided to keep it.

we recently hung it in our sunroom right in front of the east window where the sun streams in each morning. littlechandelier apparently loves this spot because each night – if it has been a sunny day – when all the lights are out in the sunroom, it has a tiny glow.

its shadow is intriguing. both of us have stood staring at the shadow, completely enjoying littlechandelier’s effort to do its little chandelier job.

even in the middle of challenge – whatever that challenge may be – i must say that i truly appreciate appreciating the littlest things. i appreciate that WE appreciate the littlest things.

we are not living a posh polished-glass-ornate-crystal-chandelier kind of life. but we are living a chandelier life nonetheless. it’s all around us.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly impact an artist whose work directly impacts you. xoxo