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sweet potatoes. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

sweet potato casserole is, admittedly, one of my favorite dishes in a thanksgiving feast. that and stuffing. and maybe that string bean casserole – the one with the french-fried onions on top. oh. and mashed potatoes. even though turkey and gravy and any variety of cranberry relish are traditional, i’m not crazy about any of that. i’m perfectly content with sweet potatoes and stuffing and mashed potatoes and maybe those green beans.

this year we will not be making anything traditional. instead, we’ll make an irish guinness stew with plentiful root vegetables. something that seems grounded, reassuring. but probably without the carrots since carrots are on the don’t-buy-don’t-eat list right now. so…substitute in maybe butternut squash and some sweet potatoes – to add the sweetness that carrots would have provided. it seems right to wait and stir and wait as a good stew simmers.

liminal space is defined as a transitional period or place, often evoking a sense of unease, a waiting area.

if you are like me, i would guess that – at this holiday – you may also be feeling in a sort of liminal space, a waiting place. these are troubled times.

but just as dr. seuss described the waiting place, he also described the places you go:

“you’re off to great places! you’re off and away! you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose.”

it is my hope always that we access great places, that we steer ourselves any direction we choose. it is my hope that – past my life here on this planet – those left behind me will also have the same american freedoms i have taken for granted throughout my life on earth. it is my hope that democracy will have survived the next years – years that will test its resiliency and fortitude. i guess we’ll see.

i have shed many tears during these last months and weeks. i have mourned for solidarity of family, of friends, of community, of state, of country. i am weary of crying, bone-tired of the grief.

my sweet momma wrote to me long ago – at a different time when my rooted energy felt depleted, “live life, my sweet potato.”

and that is what we will do. live life. looking for the great places, the places to which we might be off and away, the directions we might go…in our home, in our artistry, in our world. it is still time to create, to generate goodness, to adhere to our values, to begin.

sweet potatoes: root vegetables symbolizing abundance, healing, sustenance, survival.

i give thanks for our old house, full of memories – a long river of time. i give thanks for the abundance i have experienced, for my sweet momma’s legacy of the imperative of kindness. i give thanks for david, our grown-up children and their beloved partners, the people we love, the people who have generously held us close, who have helped sustain us. i give thanks for opportunity, possibility, the gift of time, sweet potatoes.

i hope we – as a nation – find a way of virtue through this liminal time to the other side – the place where our constitution breathes a sigh of relief, where we gratefully grab onto the coattails of every person who has fought for our freedom – holding on for dear life – where we stay vigilant and dedicated to democracy, where we heal and re-commit to unity in these united states of america.

and today, as i write this – the day before thanksgiving – all that is left for preparation is to breathe thanks and pick up a butternut squash and some sweet potatoes.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this THANKSGIVING

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to be a tree. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

this is the year.

breck is strong, its trunk is solid, it’s rooted and feels grounded as it grows not only taller, but seems to have more and more branches filled with more and more beautiful aspen leaves.

this is the year. breck is a tree.

in the last years of saplinghood, our tiny aspen has had more than its share of challenges. from its beginnings in a pot we carried from city market in breckenridge to its ability to withstand the seasons in a big clay pot on our deck to being planted in a dark corner feathery fern garden where it suffocatingly couldn’t fully see the sun to transplanting to a different garden out back, the curving of its trunk as the west winds buffeted its more fragile spirit, its fight to resiliently stand tall, its skinny jack-in-the-beanstalk growth last year, odd leafing and an infestation of aphids, ants and wasps. and now, there it is – right there, out back – proudly standing tall, loved through it all. rooted, grounded, healthy.

i would draw the parallel between me and breck and our last few years were it not to be that i’d like to linger more in now, look more toward next. the challenges have been plentiful, the sun minimal, the wind battering, the growth sporadic.

but i would also draw the parallel between me and breck – once you get some real roots under you, once you transplant out of the dark corner garden, once you feel the sun and can breathe in fresh air, once you fight to stay centered, once you steadfastly feel grounded in who you are, once you resiliently stand tall growing and leafing, loved through it all, you are far more likely to be a tree.

this is the year.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

WAITING AND KNOWING mixed media 48″ x 48″

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the hawk. [k.s. friday]

we had eye contact.

in the middle of planting grasses he flew in. i turned and he was perched on the fence, studying us. we looked at each other – eye to eye. and this hawk sat still, just watching. before i could get d’s attention and have him turn to see him, the hawk flew off, eventually landing in the higher branches of the east neighbor’s tree, where he stayed for quite some time. we could see him there and he could see us.

from his vantage point i ponder what else he could see. the horizon stretched out before him, his high flight giving him an edge for observation, clarity. his eagle eye taking in the flow around him, the circle of life ever-present.

now it makes me wonder if he knew what was coming, how grounded we would soon need to be. things change in a moment and moving forward requires determination and some acuity. perhaps it was there to let us borrow some of its vast abilities, its confidence, the sense of being in control.

i stared at the hawk. the hawk stared back at me. peacefully, focused. i was just a little astounded at how close it was. maybe it was a little astounded at how close i was. no matter, we both stayed put and the moments slowed down until he took flight.

*****

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY


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a small adjustment. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

comingtoyoufrommegaphone copy

we sat arm-in-arm in the megaphone.  we had been hiking in the snowy woods and it was the driest place to sit.  we’ve written about this megaphone before; it is a nature megaphone and it is supposed to amplify the sounds of nature from the woods and into the woods.  because someone didn’t maybe quite get the purpose, the megaphone is actually pulling sound from the street – a county highway through the woods on the narrow side of the amplifier, the side that draws in sound.  a small adjustment in its location would afford it the purpose for which it was designed.  it was built lovingly as an eagle scout project, but until this small adjustment in placement happens it will, unfortunately, not be as effective as it could be.

a small adjustment.  how many times would just a small adjustment create a path closer to success, a path more in alignment with purpose, a path that maximizes effectiveness, a megaphone that actually amplifies the amazing nature in the woods?  we get stuck in a line of thinking and, full-speed-ahead, think that is the only route, the only way.  until someone says something – a suggestion of a small adjustment – in thinking, in action, in REaction, in placement of our focus.  an ah-ha moment.

in the recording studio, as really in every musical performance, there is a groove.  it is the place where the tempo of the piece being played is “right”… everything comes together and syncs, the intent of the piece shines.  sensitive musicians and conductors can feel any deviation from that groove.  when it’s off, too slow, too fast, it doesn’t deliver the same emotional message.  just a slight adjustment brings it into center.

it’s the same with tuning.  A440 pitch is the universal standard tuning pitch.  a quarter tone off here or there makes a difference; not only can you hear this slight adjustment, but you can feel that the vibration is quivering, off its mark.

two people.  a difference of opinion.  the quivering vibration is palpable.  a small adjustment left or right, quietly spoken or wisely quiet, pivots them back to the heart-core, brings back solid ground.

that same kind of vibration…present in any gathering of people…in sync or magnets repelling each other…with underlying fields of pre-formed assumptions getting in the way of the small slight adjustments needed – the ah-ha’s – to be in actual alignment, stronger together than separate, amplifying the real sound of this earth – in the groove, in tune, on the mark, grounded, mutually, cooperatively, collaboratively on-purpose.

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

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