reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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counter-balance. [kerri’s blog on flawed/not-so-flawed wednesday]

i suppose there will be a day when i look out the front door – to the west and the setting sun – and not see these branches. i suppose wind or ice or age – or even a city crew – might take them down. in the meanwhile, though, they are a statement of the familiar and their graceful shape gives me comfort.

we have been more insular lately. there are many reasons for this, some too close-in to list. the world has felt inordinately harsh – the world IS inordinately harsh – and so, in the name of balance, there has been time simply spent here, at home.

and at the end of a day, when we realize that we had not gone anywhere in that day, i am sometimes surprised.

but engagement is not just getting-out-of-the-house. there are – i suspect – particularly evidenced by the vast numbers of people who still support the cruel, unhealthy, marginalizing agenda of this administration – plenty of people who get out of the house but who never actually engage in the reality of what is happening, never seek the truth, never question their proclivity to pompom this depravity, never utter that they might have been wrong.

they go to the mall or the department store and shop, they go to some supersized – or tiny – evangelical church that proclaims their modified version of jesus, they go out to dinner and feast, they are at soccer games and gymnasiums and gated community parks. they follow the social media of extremism and sanctify voices and leaders without compassion, without empathy, without conscience.

no, engagement – participation – involvement – in this world requires asking questions and participating in discussions, learning, parsing out complex ideas, critical thinking, curiosity, connection, the recognition of one’s impact in the world.

engagement does not suggest utter complicit passivity nor does it suggest giving over of one’s morality; it does not suggest sycophancy nor adulation of horrific ideology. it doesn’t suggest – or not suggest – any of that.

we each get to choose our own engagement.

personally, i will stick to seeking the ideals of kindness, compassion, humanitarianism, equality, truth. i will stick to looking to the constitution and its amendments of this country as the guiding discipline of its laws.

and, even if i’m not engaged with the mall or the church or out-and-about dining or shopping or playing a day here or a day there, i will continue to hold to the kind of engagement that does not ignore reality.

and that kind of engagement requires some counter-balance these days.

which takes me to these ever-familiar front-yard branches drawing grace in the sky.

*****

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

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the starting line of next. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“it’s everything behind you that brings you to what’s ahead.” (visa commercial during the olympics)

in depicting the miscellany of experiences that makes up a life, we all would need large pieces of poster board placed side by side by side by side to create some sort of visual timeline, something that might represent life-to-this-point.

we would all have great paragraphs of explanation, large narratives filled with words that describe each event – each dit – on the timeline. we would have many adjectives, many sources, references to places and things, achievements and failures. we might have colors or foggy haze highlighting or distilling sections of our lifeline. we might have sections that make us look like hermits or sections that make us look downright rowdy. we might place large question marks over periods of time or, maybe, exclamation marks over moments of enlightenment.

there is one thing i know, though.

even though we are each – seemingly – the expert at our own life, there are few ways to explain it all. we attempt to connect the dots – deciphering some connections with reasonable reckoning, some connections serendipitous – but some things – the going-on from one time to another – are just, well, kind of unfigureoutable.

olympians, like artists, crawl and are catapulted by both tiny baby steps and big leaps into what’s ahead – the stuff of every nook and cranny lived part of the ingredients that place you at the starting line of next – the gate, the block, the apron of the stage, the blank paper, the record button, the empty canvas.

if you had asked me at 18 if i would ever live in the midwest, i would have firmly told you – in no uncertain terms – no. but there are things at 18 i didn’t know, things i didn’t know would happen to me, things i didn’t know i would choose, people i didn’t know i would meet, places I didn’t know i would go – all the obvious didn’t-knows. … every action, thought or event produces a corresponding result or consequence… uh-huh, yep.

but here’s another thing i also know.

when you gather all that it took to get to this point – the very point you are at right at this very moment – you should actually be a bit astounded at it all. for no matter all the specific details of your life – everything on your poster boards per se, you are still here now. there is still time – even this very minute – to do more, to say more, to make more, to move more. there is the ahead and every step takes us there. we have choices to make about what’s ahead. there are unparalleled surprises and calamities – both – in store for each of us. our poster boards aren’t done. keep the markers and crayons and thesaurus out.

we – here in the united states – live in a country with a rich – though rather brief – history. in the poster-board display of this country it would seem that we are currently lingering under a very big question mark.

i guess i wonder what in our lives would make any of us choose a dark route forward. what would make us choose cruel and abusive over kind and empathetic, with the light of hope for all? what – on this good earth in this finite life – would make us step into next, relishing adjectives of depravity and extremism?

“the road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads us to who knows where, who knows where…” (he ain’t heavy, he’s my brother – bobby scott/bob russell)

what do we want on the mutual poster boards of our country?

*****

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

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energy into energy. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

every time we drove past we wondered what it was going to be. the farm field had been sold and something was being built.

up north in wisconsin are farms with structures that – at the beginning of this build – look somewhat similar to what was happening here. there are ginseng farms up there. we wondered if maybe that’s what was being constructed.

what we really hoped was happening – right next door to another farm that had posted numerous maga-loving signs – is that ‘they’ – whoever ‘they’ was who had purchased the large acreage – were building a solar farm.

we were thrilled to see the metal structures and underpinnings for this solar field as it became obvious to us that – indeed – it was a solar power generating site. we cheer each time we pass it.

it is truly beyond the scope of my ability to understand the utter lack of responsibility it takes to undermine the handing-down of a healthy planet to our ancestors as the administration gutted the environmental protection agency’s endangerment finding – an agency created in 1970 to protect “clean air and clean water and open spaces as the birthright of every american.” (president richard nixon)

“an EPA that ignores science and dismantles the tools designed to protect public health and the environment cannot fulfill its mission.” (protect our winters)

with 31 deregulatory actions on the cusp of being implemented, clean air, clean water, stable seasons and public lands are all at risk. this is the potential loss of public health and environmental stability, escalating climate impacts on the world. where – on this good earth – is accountability?

when you continue south on the road with this new solar field, turn right on the county highway after passing a few more farms, and drive about a mile further, you find yourself at another construction site.

another solar field.

cheering again, we couldn’t be more proud.

the solar development of these lands is looking forward – not back. it is not mired in the self-serving profiteering of cronies’ fossil fuels. it is not ignoring the plight of the environment – this beautiful earth – and those who follow us.

instead, this solar development is part of an initiative that seeks to support the state of illinois’ goal of 100% renewable energy by 2050. renewable energy…hydro, wind, solar, biomass.

bravo, illinois.

as a country – planning for a future that can be healthy, sustaining – a country that will care for all its inhabitants – we have a long ways to go.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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together here. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was his birthday this weekend. he turned 65, a big-deal-birthday. my sweet momma always paid special attention to those big-deal-birthdays – especially the ones that were divisible by 5.

we had plans for friday – particularly because his actual birthday falls on busy valentine’s day – it just figures he is a valentine’s day baby! we were going to go to the milwaukee art museum and then to the public market, to sit at the counter and lunch on divine gumbo.

dogga woke us up early, not feeling well.

and that changed everything.

for this man – this man full of heart – whose very heart aligns with mine – with whom i have mutually – side by side – endured all matters of life for years now – decided he’d rather stick close to home, to be by our dogga so we can keep an eye on him and love on him.

in years hence, it will never matter to either of us whether we went to the art museum on friday, nor will it matter if we had gumbo that exact day. what will matter is that we let our love of our beloved dogga lead us and we prioritized with him in mind.

and this is just one of the reasons i know that “i don’t care about any words on the map besides you are here.”

some stuff just doesn’t matter. and where we spend time together is one of them, for anywhere on the map together – is home together.

i grant you – yes – that we would love to tool about the country – heck, the world – and explore and hike and photograph and write and paint and play music and create joy as we go. we’d love to immerse in places near and far – and feel the actual place, its actual culture, its energy, its gifts – for all places have innumerable gifts to offer.

but at this moment in time, we are happy – content – to be home in our old house, to be sharing our home with each other, to be sharing our home with our old dogga.

there will be other moments. there will be other places to see. there will be maps-with-words and plans and adventures.

right now here – with each other – is the most important place ever.

*****

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punchbowl musings. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

and so i have some hesitancy on this. it was on the bottom shelf, tucked back into the shelf unit in the storage room, next to the blow-up pool floaties. it didn’t seem like i had thought about it for years. ok, for decades. i listed it for sale – after researching its ‘value’ as a vintage (circa 1980) cut-glass punchbowl set.

but part of my research brought me to a few blogposts others had written. and in those blogposts were these absolute gems about all the ways to use a lovely punchbowl. not just for punch.

the one that really stuck out for me – and debilitated my quest to sell-sell-sell – was the story about a lovely summer gathering where the person served gazpacho and crusty bread, glasses of chilled sauvignon blanc. yikes. i immediately wanted to have a lovely summer gathering where i serve gazpacho and crusty bread – each attendee ladling delicious soup into their handled cup and visiting on the deck or the patio under warm sun and blue skies.

so, yup…hesitancy. i mean, it all fits conveniently into a box – the base, the bowl, every last cup and hook – so why not just keep it a while longer…?

the power of story, eh?

i cried this morning. it wasn’t about the punchbowl. it was about seeing a post by my very own sister that made it obvious – beyond a shadow of a doubt – that she is completely on the other side of the current dangerous political divide.

gauging by how overtaken i was by grief, i guess i was holding out hope that the stories that are now reality in this country might have changed her mind, the minds of her immediate family members. because every story we are hearing breaks our hearts ever more. every story makes us question what in the hell is going on. every story makes us absolutely sick to our stomachs that this country has devolved into such a cruel and bigoted, sadistic and extreme place.

it is impossible for me to wrap my head around anyone – any.one. – finding acceptable any of these stories of the realities of this kind of depravity.

yet i know that there are media outlets that so many subscribe to – leave on in their family rooms, their florida rooms, their kitchens, their living rooms – for hours on end. these outlets distort the actual truth – to the nth degree. these outlets obfuscate. these outlets lie. and people are watching them, soaking it all in, pompom-ing them, lost in them.

lost.

and i feel totally crushed.

crushed.

the power of story.

used and misused.

i’ll probably eventually decide to keep the punchbowl. it is not likely to sell.

i will make gazpacho or vichyssoise and serve it in handled cut-glass cups. there will be glasses of chilled white wine and sunshine, laughter and conversation.

and stories.

of adventures, dreams, disappointments and loss.

yes.

loss.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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and in it you. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

many, many years ago a dear person said to me, “i see the full moon out my window, and, in it, you.”

like you – especially if you are a woman – i have had a mixture of flattering comments and detritus thrown my way. this one sentence – spoken to me so long ago – stands in one of the most complimentary spots. it wasn’t sugary sweet, nor cajoling. it wasn’t smarmy; it wasn’t even ingratiating. there was no endgame, no agenda. there wasn’t even any expected response. it just was.

i thought about this the other night while i lay awake in the wee hours. from my cozy spot, out the mini blinds to my right, i could see it – the full moon. and every time i see the full moon, i think of these words.

i don’t think that the person who said this to me knew what kind of a gift they were giving me. i don’t think that they knew i would carry these words for decades. they are tucked in, ready to be plucked and re-heard in the cassette tape of my memory at any moment. they are words of value, words of connectivity, words of great love.

for how often have you stood on the ground-dirt of this earth and looked up at the moon…knowing full well that this – indeed – is the same moon we all see, the same moon that shines on all earth, the same moon above everyone’s piece of ground? when every beloved, every family member, every friend, every person of every single social identifier looks at the moon, it is this moon. no other.

we each – here on this earth – simultaneously inhabit this very moon. we each are a part of its light, privy to its lunar cycles, part of the tide of this earth.

as we watched the olympics opening ceremony, i jotted down many of kirsty coventry’s words as the president of the international olympic committee.

she spoke the african word “ubuntu” and i – a part of the earth and of the moon – immediately was drawn to it.

for ubuntu is translated to: i am because we are.

yes.

she continued, “we can only rise by lifting others…respect, support and inspire one another.”

and “the best of humanity is found in courage, compassion and kindness.”

is not each of us held to this basic moral standard? is not each of us obligated to feel gratitude for a place on this earth? is not each of us – as seen in the moon – here to illuminate the rest of earth, to bring light to others, to be light?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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now.never not.never not now. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it’s a heavy load. to be the woke – the empathetic, voiced, visioned, courageous, big-feelinged folks – both disparaged and desperately needed.

when all else has been sloughed off, when all else has failed, when all else is dross, it is art that will remain…there will still be heart.

this quote – way too big to actually write about without a feeling of undeserved arrogance, way too big to even begin to dissect without a feeling of ineptitude – it is an urge, a plea, a last-licks, it is an imperative we artists follow anyway: to turn complex feelings into something people can touch, can hear, can see, can taste. to turn that which we cannot see in any simplicity – beliefs, faith, love, philosophy, interconnectedness, bigotry, hatred – into something we can feel, something that resonates, something that gives us bite-sized bits to try and grok.

contemporaneously, without bruce springsteen there would still be the streets of minneapolis. but his music, his lyrics – his song has given beat and melody to the excruciating pain and stalwart dedication of the people in those streets. his music has given the rest of us – those of us in other places – also in pain and with dedication – something to grab onto, something to hold and wave and hum.

contemporaneously, without bad bunny there would still be a half-time show in the super bowl. there would still be grammy winners. but his tear-filled words, his staunchly raw comments ricocheting off the walls of the arena gave goosebumps to the rest of us – something we could grab onto, something to hold and wave and speak.

contemporaneously, without the cartoonists populating social media, the stuff that is happening would still be happening. but those cartoonists are bravely offering humor – sometimes truly dark humor – to give us something to grab onto, something to hold and wave and maybe, just maybe, laugh at.

there isn’t any way to rise and reclaim this place without the artists who are the building blocks for actual humanity, the collective melt in the melting pot, the mortar that holds it all together even when it collapses.

“people got to come together, not just out of fear…” (chicago – where do we go from here? – 1970)

it is never not the artists’ time. now is not different.

“let’s all get together soon, before it is too late

forget about the past and let your feelings fade away

if you do i’m sure you’ll see, the end is not yet near…

the artists have already taken all those big, complex feelings and turned them into something we all can believe in. they’ve been doing it all along. the whole of time.

the world does need artists’ voices, artists’ vision and artists’ courage.

steep yourselves in it all. urgently. get brave. get going.

“where do we go

where do we go

where do we go from here?”

*****

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 kerri sherwood

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sit on the step. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i have sat on that front step next to that black wrought iron railing countless times. i wouldn’t even be able to venture a guess as to how many times. i’ve watched kids play, I’ve waited for someone’s arrival or return, i’ve breathed fresh air into grief, i’ve pondered some difficult things of life.

as it has rusted through the years, d sanded the railing this past summer. and then he repainted it, so it’s looking pretty fresh these days…well, as fresh as a railing that’s likely almost 100 can look.

ahhh…speaking of age…a few days ago – on sundaywe had a tiny celebration. we grilled and had some french fries and a glass of wine. we used a set of our favorite cloth napkins. because this month d will turn 65. and because saturday at midnight-going-into-sunday was the very last day of the affordable care act for us. we are now both on medicare with a medicare supplemental plan and a part d.

we have had a dubious relationship with the aca. of course, grateful to have healthcare of some sort, there has been the healthcare cliff, the healthcare subsidies, the healthcare deductibles, the healthcare copays, the state-to-state healthcare rules about where you might be able to be treated, the limitations on travel if you have any concerns about, well, anything happening other than what an emergency room might handle.

recall the day in our own town we sat in big red in a parking lot, trying to decide between going to the emergency room or urgent care for my two broken wrists. i am wrapped up like a mummy, both wrists wrapped and then placed against my chest (the way the ski hill medics wrapped me) and i am trying to look at the difference in coverage between the ER and urgent care so that i might be treated but we might not be overwhelmed by medical debt afterwards. these were extraordinarily tense moments and – as it turns out – we probably should have gone to the ER, but the state of healthcare in these united states make proper care of our bodies – decisions based on the reality of your situation – nearly impossible for most ordinary people.

so now, medicare.

we are inordinately happy to be a-week-shy-of-65 and 66…ok, seven-weeks-shy-of-67. we appreciate the chance to move about the country and be covered by insurance to keep us healthy.

yes, indeedy…..move about the country and be covered by insurance to keep us healthy.

like, you know, universal healthcare.

and why would we not want everyone in this country to have that?

it is beyond me to ponder why anyone WOULDN’T want that. how little compassion you must have to have to believe instead in the every-person-for-themselves philosophy of life.

it’s time – again – to go sit on the step.

some things just make no sense at all.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

HELPING HANDS (53.5″ x 15.25“)

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apparently. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it was frigid out that day. really, really frigid. a good day to bake cookies and make a big pot of pasta sauce. we added water to the old radiator pans to put a little moisture in the air. we set up the humidifier in the bedroom. we hunkered down.

we’re still in clean-out mode. we will be for a while, likely a long while. cookies mid-day are a perfect reward for keeping-on.

we are making discoveries as we go, so the going is slower than if there were no stories whatsoever, if there was no personalization. it would definitely speed things up if we felt no attachment whatsoever to any of the stuff, if we were decidedly ruthless about cutting all threads to any sentimentality.

but we can’t…well, mostly, i can’t – since most of the things in the basement are related to me. d didn’t tote decades of belongings with him when he arrived well over a decade ago. his physical baggage was simpler – a budget-truck-full. though he still willingly participates in the sluggish crawl through bins and boxes and closets and storage rooms.

so we move slowly and give credence to all the stories, the memories, the narrative, the life that whispers from each thing we unearth – short or long, loud or soft.

we read an article about the historical united states – pre-lincoln – when the mud-sill theory was rising as a way-to-be in this place – caste system heavy, subordinating women and those of non-white races. ugly and cruel, the system disregarded the stories and lives of the ‘regular’ populace, of any working class of people. not that it ever really went away – despicable stuff – it has risen its brutally hideous head once again. right here. right now.

this administration would much like to speed things up. this administration would much like to be entirely ruthless. they are honing their merciless skills every day now. there is no ‘slow’ in their vocabulary nor in their agenda, for it would seem that slow might elicit accountability or conscience and there is neither.

we don’t really understand how one gets there – to a place of such depravity. despite the somewhat-constitutional-pom-pom-waving-somewhat-marginalizing-sordid history of this country and its arc through time, we do believe that most people would like to live in harmony, most people would like to live in peace. they are the ingredients for a democracy, the recipe for the sweet life.

they’re gluten-free, these chocolate chip cookies. but you’d never know if i didn’t tell you. they are just as delicious as tollhouse cookies with wheat flour. they are just what we needed in the middle of the afternoon.

apparently, right now, the sweet life is limited to what we can create together with others who are like-minded in their desire for goodness, who are not callously embracing the unrelenting horrific.

yeah. that and these cookies.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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the wheel. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

in the back corner of the storage room – up on the concrete ledge, behind the boiler and the hot water heater, in a bit of cobweb – sat this the metal wheel. next to it was a plastic exercise ball for small rodents and a water dispenser from a habitat used decades ago.

we took them off the shelf and i washed them all off, thinking i could give them away to someone who might have a gerbil or a hamster, saving them from purchasing these items.

but it had been decades since i’d used them – our children were little when we had these tiny pets.

so i decided i’d best do a little research to make sure these were still safe.

they are not.

come to find out that the plastic exercise balls don’t have enough airflow and the metal wheel has been the source of injury for these tiny creatures. into the trash they went.

that wheel, though.

both d and i looked at it and then at each other, rolling our eyes. the wheel – the subject of one of our flawed cartoons – a statement piece.

as artists we are used to less. it’s built in to our dna, it seems. we have stepped to the side of the wheel – choosing something different than the norm, different than the 9-5, with a different imperative, with different rules, different expectations, and with clearly different financial rewards as well. without the security of tenure in an institution or corporation and its advantages (particularly in remuneration, advancement, healthcare plans, retirement), we have forged a different path. we have avoided the faster-faster-faster of the wheel, but not without sacrifice.

most of the populace, however, have chosen more traditional routes and now we are watching the administration destroy those, destroy their stability, destroy the respect due each of them.

at the time of this cartoon’s drawing, my own interpretation of it was more of a boss-worker cynical take.

in these times, one quick look at it in the cartoon files and it took on a life of its own:

the oligarchy vs the people.

because – well – it’s obvious, isn’t it?

the haughty, condescending, inflated, pompous hubris – standing around in their opulent affluence – rolling in it – their plenty – while the rest of the people – the real people – work ever-ever faster to get nowhere – to have not-enough.

i’m glad the wheel went in the trash. it’s where it belongs.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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