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where holy is. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i’m not sure that i can point to the moment when i realized – with every fibre – that the truly holiest moments were not the ones in buildings called churches.

it is a moment for which i am grateful, perspective-arranging and a welcome addition to my secular vocabulary – the word “holy”.

i spent many decades creating the atmosphere in churches where people might tune in to the emotional of faith – that which they could not palpably touch but which they could feel, they could intuit, they could impart to others. through music that i specifically chose – after research, after studying the narrative to be used, and after much listening and evaluating if a piece might touch hearts – open or closed – i shaped the music of services – the everyday and the special holidays, the celebrations of joining together and the inevitable release of people to the next dimension – to freely acknowledge spirit as it flowed and to try to gently grace others with it through music. to try and encourage an openness to the spirit that breathed into the place and maybe into them, into a place inside them where they needed the sweet assurance. whether i was aware if it did or not was not my only measure of success. providing the tenor of possibility and holding space for holy and their experience of holy was my job. there were moments when the last strains of a song or piece of music lingered in the air over the congregation, moments when a choir of singers, paused in a rest between notes sung with dedication and commitment to each other that you could almost see holy in the hush – the sun shining through, its rays touching each person. but over the course of these decades of time spent in these buildings, i was inordinately disappointed – even stunningly – time and again – by the hypocrisy to which i was privy. true faith is as true faith does, holy is as holy does, i was reminded, over and over. disillusionment was – and still is – a repeating theme.

out on the trail, as the clouded sun shined through the winter landscape and reflected onto the river, i could see – once again – how holy turns up in the purest of moments, the simplest, the least contrived. we have been gifted by the universe – and whatever deity we each individually feel or – perhaps – in which we might believe – with the extraordinary: a world full of beautiful.

beautiful is a descriptive word – easily understood as describing something of beauty. and that is all around us. the reaching of people to people in times of abundance and in times of need, kindness to and embracing of our neighbors despite differences, the love between any and all, regardless of anything, nature and its astonishments. our holy is all around us.

for those of you who are invoking your – supposed – religiosity to validate your vote – and your support – for the cruelest chaos that is this new administration, those of you who are spouting righteous religious drivel to prop up your bigotry, i would venture to say you may have missed the point. sheer hypocrisy has taken over your holy.

holy has not only left the building, but it has clearly left your soul.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

“our forever work is to learn to hold the brutal and beautiful in the same palm.” (suleika jaouad)

i am trying to learn to list to the beautiful. lean into it. curve that way. take that path. abruptly turn, if need be.

in these fraught times, these times of brutal, we are finding how we wake – how we start our day – is crucial. we are fragile, maybe just like you.

and so we watch through the mini blinds, through the screen and storm window, as – out across the deck, reflecting on the sunroom windows, just past the awning over the back door – the sun – rising over the lake – climbs to a place where its rays sneak around houses and gardens and reach out and out, brushing our windows.

and we can see it.

we watch as it intensifies and moves up, up. a tiny gift for us to hold.

and then – as we sip coffee – one of us quietly comments on how truly beautiful it is. and our day is officially started.

*****

taking stock © 2010 kerri sherwood

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the grace dance. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

even laden with new snow, the grasses spring up, ever resilient. they show fortitude in predicament and circumstance – a teachable moment for those of us humans who are not impervious to such things.

maybe it’s their golden glow in sun low on the horizon. maybe it’s that there are small critters taking refuge under the umbrella of stalky stems. maybe it’s the reverent bow of the fronds, the balance in the arch of growth and weight, a toppling over. maybe it is simply grace.

“i do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.” (anne lamott)

in moments of this past year i have found myself in the presence of grace. i have watched grace heal physical injuries. i have watched grace blanket people, restoring relationship. i have experienced grace reaching out its arms to envelop. i have received grace – the support of others. i have been surprised – even shocked – by grace and i have been surprised – even shocked – by a lack of grace.

for if the presence of grace – such an intangible mystery – does not leave us unchanged, then so does the absence of grace.

were the grasses to succumb, to be lying down, flat upon the earth, their glow of beauty and their cozy shelter wouldn’t be. their place in the world and its workings would be different, perhaps. their resilience seems to be the key.

“I know nothing, except what everyone knows – if there when grace dances, i should dance.” (anne lamott)

in the mystery that is beauty, that is grace, that is the intertwining of both – for surely they are hand in hand – there is an invitation for us to dance, upright upon a floor of dirt on earth under the sun, able to both receive and extend grace – like feathery fronds on an ornamental grass, ever resilient though the elements are threatening.

we carry that dance – tucked in – with us as we make our way. it is present, beckoning us. we can see it in the falling snow and the driving rain, thick fog and dark nights. it is there, ready to leave us different.

*****

GRACE © 2010 kerri sherwood

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tinsel. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]]

my sweet poppo and i would go out to get a “real” tree every year – sometimes as late as just a couple days before christmas. together we would pick out the one that seemed the most right. they’d wrap it in netting and he’d strap it to the top of the car with rope. decorating it meant also watching him meticulously place each strand of tinsel – individually – on the tree. because we placed the shinybrites on together after he first wrapped the tree with lights, it seemed like we needed to be a part of the tinseling too.

now, tinsel – real tinsel (and, well, even the newfangled plasticized tinsel) requires a special skill set of patience. one piece at a time, stepping back, looking at the balance of tinsel, placing another, repeat. but, when my dad wasn’t looking – thinking many of you might admit to this as well – i would back up with several strands in my hand and launch them high into the air so that they would fall on the tree, scattered and perfectly placed. eh. not so much. they would land in clumps, impossible to disguise as meticulously-placed.

tinseling was not my forte. and, once christmas trees were my own, they ceased to have tinsel.

but tinsel has always had a warm place in my heart and always-always makes me think of my sweet dad. i didn’t realize it back then but later it became obvious that placing each of these strands – one by one – was both a generosity of his for others – to lift them into festive – and perhaps a way for him to immerse into the heart of the holiday as well, to arrive. when it was time to take down the tree back then, my dad would – again – ever so slowly and carefully – remove each piece of tinsel, protecting and preserving as much as possible to be used again the next year.

and so i have a bit of tinsel in the box of decorations – just to simply look at it brings my dad here.

many years ago i added this tinsel tree to my tiny-tree collection. each year, i place it where it is seen and this year, well, it got top billing placement, seen as soon as you walk in the front door.

the holiday itself has passed and the frenetic has somewhat slowed down. it’s time to look ahead – there is a new year arriving.

this new year will have many challenges…it’s already presenting itself that way. i am hoping to meet them with presence of mind and fortitude and meticulous patience – like my dad tinseling the christmas tree – slow and steady, one day at a time, one challenge at a time.

the shinybrites remained tucked away and silver and crystal ornaments took over this holiday. soon – in a week or two – these will also be packed away, ready for next year, save for a few to keep light in the living room even on the darkest winter days. the tiny trees will go into the bin, though i can see one or two staying on for a bit, also lingering to bring light into the darker months. i’ll place the tinseltree in the bin with the other decorations – happy to have had its company, happy that it places my dad in our living room.

and we’ll gear up and turn toward the new year. much as i’d like to avoid it, i know the only way to the other side is through.

and so it’s time to tinsel the new year – to find as much light as we can and to carefully place it around us so that it might be something others can see. to carry love and generosity past these holidays and into next, a reminder to participate in that which lifts others, to protect, to preserve, to be meticulous.

i’m thinking – in the way people hang signs or posters with messages or have daily calendars full of positivity – that i will place a piece or two of tinsel on the frame we have in our room. maybe that way – each morning when i wake and sip coffee under the quilt, david and dogga by my side – i will be reminded of light and reflection and every one of my dad’s silent tinsel lessons.

maybe tinsel – like sprinkles – will make me a better-equipped person in these fraught times than i would be without it.

maybe tinsel’s not just for christmas anymore.

*****

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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$1.25 [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the ornaments in the locked display cases were phenomenally expensive. it was a bit shocking. but we know many people collect things that are quite valuable and these definitely were perceived as that. the low end was just shy of $100 and the high end…well, rather high. we browsed them a bit, curious. i honestly cannot say that i wish we had purchased one or, for that matter, had even been able to purchase one. their ornateness did not appeal to me. too much. much too much. more is more is not us, especially when it comes to the baubles of the season.

i guess it echoes my sentiment – my heart – this simple-ing-down of it all. it is – for me – about the most basic things – this holiday season…regardless of religion. for me, this season of light – for which we have waited – reminds us that god (or whatever you call a greater deity) is with us. and i believe basic tenets are basic tenets, no matter what any book says – no matter if it’s written in red – no matter who said what – no matter the stories told. basic goodness – love, generosity, equality, kindness, grace – is basic and no scribed stuff should twist it into agenda.

in a time that celebrates peace on earth we are less than peaceful. in a time of gathering we are torn apart, divisive. in a time of generosity, there is greed beyond imagination. in a time of grace, there is marginalization. in a time of good will, there is monstrous evil. this is – most definitely – a world of hypocrisy. we need to seek light each and every day.

“and now you’re here in a world of hypocrisy and your love will heal us all…” (you’re here ©️ 2019 kerri sherwood)

it’s not the fancy stuff that makes me stop, get lost, offer a prayer. it’s the dollar tree $1.25 tiny metal wire tree ornament hanging in our kitchen. it’s the little foot-tall fold-up $1 tree in the middle of our dining room table. it’s the crystal ornament catching the light in the living room. it’s the old pickle on the tree. it’s the galvanized star hanging on our branch.

there is more brokenness to come; there are more shattered dreams. this is a season where we need support each other, heal each other – best as we can.

love one another. the simplest of things. and the hardest of things. ours to do – to exist – as humankind.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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the infinite infinite. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

somewhere – in the infinite infinite – i suppose that my sweet momma and poppo might be with my big brother, nibbling on crumbcake and coffee ice cream. maybe they are having a chat about christmas eve norwegian fish pudding and rum cake. or maybe about burning your fingertips making krumkake. maybe they are reminiscing about singing carols in the living room – gathered around the organ or the piano, my brother with his guitar, my uncle with his beautiful tenor.

i suppose that the party might be bigger…with their baby daughter i never met, with my grandparents, with their siblings, with friends they treasured. they may pop open the martini & rossi asti or blend some eggnog, assuming there is electricity. maybe they are swinging on stars and peering through the clouds at us here; maybe they are missing us.

in the way that things are in this place right now, i am glad that my sweetest mom and dad are not physical witnesses to what is happening, for their hearts would be broken by the ugliness of these times. i am grateful – in an odd way – that they do not have to experience what will be in the next for this country, for our world. even with everything they saw and endured in their lives – which is plenty considering they were born in 1921 and 1920 – i know that what’s happening and what’s coming would challenge and disappoint their beliefs and values to the core.

and so, in the meanwhile – between now and the infinite infinite – i will miss them. the axis has never returned to balance since they’ve been gone and this time of year brings that home even more.

i do believe, though, that if my momma – ever the letterwriter – could write in the sky – out there by the moon – she would. she’d likely draw words with the help of clouds and contrails. and she’d spell out something like, “daddy says ‘hello brat!‘” and “don’t forget to live life, my sweet potato!”.

when i look up – or inside – i can hear them both.

merry christmas mom and dad.

*****

bonus track (god be with you till we meet again) © 1996 kerri sherwood

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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a season of light. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it did my heart good to wander slowly through milaegers garden center. like the line “it’s much more than a box” from the department store gift-wrapping scene in love actually, milaegers is much more than a garden center. and day before yesterday it was a holiday wonderland.

it was just what i needed. we strolled slowly, each of us raying out to what invited our eye. everything was decorated and the displays were glowing. we were searching for just the right thing and lingered around each tree – perfectly laden with ornaments and gleaming tchotchkes.

we finished our holiday shopping for the day and happily used a gift card we had held onto for well over a year – a local bistro where we loved sitting at the bar sipping a glass of wine and sharing a most-delicious burger. it was truly a day that put spirit into our spirits.

last night we sat in our living room under a furry white throw and looked around at our decorations, satisfied that we not only paid homage to a festive season but were true to our own sensibilities, a mashup of organic and glimmer. there is a shimmery incandescence in there we can both feel – particularly full of grace at a time of seasonal and out-in-the-world darkness.

the tiny trees we’ve collected are scattered about, both happy-lit and simply green. even the very plainest of these have their place.

the big branch in our living room – from the old tree out front – has now stood there for four holiday seasons. though it is wrapped in year-round white lights, each christmastime we have added something. two years ago it was silver bulbs. last year it was vintage shiny brites of my mom and dad’s. this year we added crystal prism ornaments. there is a lone metal star. it is – to us – really beautiful.

eileen’s tree – “e.e.” as it will always be known – has the place of honor, standing sweetly in the doorway from the living room to the dining room. a nod to the traditional, it has become, now, one of our own traditions. it all feels peaceful, which is our intention.

in the day the crystals on the branches in the living room throw beams of sunlight across the floor. with the room lights off, the happy lights of the trees on, the crystals on the branches in the living room glitter, anticipating the season of the return of light.

it is not milaegers but it is home and, in a world of frenetic and fraught, this luminous place is truly our sanctuary.

*****

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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and justice… [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

i pledge allegiance to the flag of the united states of america. and to the republic for which it stands – one nation, under god, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. (pledge of allegiance)

…and justice for all…

uh-huh. yup. fer sure.

(snarky – though truthful – alert for what follows…and…if you are running low on snark tolerance, I understand. these times are difficult and it is overwhelming to be surrounded by so much hypocrisy, so much that is truly unthinkable. i am merely one more voice out here, expressing outrage, hoping against hope that the voterswhovotedforthis might be capable of hearing and – more importantly, though clearly belated – of listening. and that the voterswhovotedagainstthis might feel less alone in their own outrage.)

in case you hadn’t already read this – in numerous other posts i have written – i was raped. i am a survivor. i have been a survivor for over four decades. i have carried it with me throughout my adult life. though i spent most of that time in silence, it has affected me physically and emotionally, psychologically, professionally, and financially. it has touched every corner of my life. it is both profound and a profound change agent in one’s life.

my rapist was a predator who expertly groomed and preyed on young women, older women, underage women, virgins, innocent targets. my rapist also “successfully” raped other women. my rapist was not charged. my rapist walks in the world – free – even today.

and – clearly – my rapist could be president.

because – fact of the matter is – here we are…poised to have an adjudicated rapist as the president – a man also convicted of 34 felonies among numerous other indictments and allegations, but golly gee, why would we even mention or consider those petty little details?

and so, i have some questions for you, ye who have voted for this, er, person.

where is the justice?

did you know when you voted? did you not care when you voted?

did it feel ok to vote in a rapist, a convicted felon?

is this the person you wish your father, your husband, your son, your grandson, your brother look up to, emulate? is this the person you wish your mother, your wife, your daughter, your granddaughter, your sister look up to?

would you leave your daughter alone with him? your granddaughter? your mom? your sister? your auntie, your niece? would you leave your tiny child alone with him? would you trust him to keep his hands to himself and his pants zipped?

what is the deal?

or – and this possibility sickens me beyond the disgust i am already feeling – did you have some sort of sadistic vicarious fantasy voting him in – a man laden with cruelty, revenge, evil intentions – some arsonist lurking in you wishing to watch the fire?

i saw this meme:

“we could have shown our daughters that they could do anything.

instead, we showed our sons that they can rape, cheat, and lie and still become the most powerful man in the country.”

if you don’t find that inordinately disturbing as a parent (you know, the whole i want the best for my child; i want to protect my child thing), as a woman (you know, the women supporting women’s rights thing), as a human being (you know, the whole moral compass thing) – if that bit of injustice doesn’t get your goat – if the utter lack of and-justice-for-all doesn’t take your liberty-breath away – i don’t know what will.

just sayin’.

warned you it was snarky.

and truthful.

*****

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

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what is real. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

i told him the other day I wasn’t sure if i had anything left to say. in the lostness following this horrific election, i still feel all the things i have already written about – truly gutted.

i would imagine that there are many of ‘me’ out there. heart-broken, infuriated, exhausted, confused, feeling betrayed.

and in that wanderland of grief sit the questions of “what is real?” and “who is real?”. they nag at me – wherever i am. we escaped to the trail and they followed me – sitting heavy on my heart, ponderous.

real (adjective): 1. actually existing as a thing or occurring in fact: not imagined or supposed. 2. (of a substance or thing) not imitation or artificial; genuine.

and

real: behaving or presented in a way that feels true, honest, or familiar and without pretension or affectation.

and so i look at life now and think about what is real and who is real.

the “real” i knew would have stood by me, by my family, by values i assumed we shared, by the lifting up of humanity.

the “real” i knew would have been morally aghast by the cruel, devastating intentions of the new maga-regime.

the “real” i knew would have pushed back against all of it – leading with goodness and kindness.

but i guess the “real” you wanted me – and everyone else – to see wasn’t really real. and i will now admit, you fooled me.

i suppose – like many others will – that i could pretend it doesn’t matter. i could act like it doesn’t matter. i could interact like it doesn’t matter. i could just go on as if it doesn’t matter. but it does. it matters. it’s real.

mary oliver wrote, “you can fool a lot of yourself, but you can’t fool the soul.”

so even as i fight the internal fight – trying – irrationally – to hold onto what or who is really not real – my soul knows.

and, like many of you trying to process this soul-knowing, i am deeply sad.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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there is. i will. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it was this morning – while i was nibbling on gluten-free cinnamon toast. it was while i was dishing out dogga’s dinner. it was while we sat at the kitchen table, darkness quickly falling outside. it was while i was sending a picture-of-the-day to my children, while i was texting with my dear friend. it was while i listened to george winston’s thanksgiving. it was on the trail. it was at the matinee of the movie here. it was leaving the theatre, tears in our eyes, grateful it was still a little light out.

it is right now. and this is where we are.

there are boundaries to be drawn, plans to be made, worries to be worried, griefs to be grieved.

there is shock and outrage. there is absolute horror.

there is no humor in what will come – and there is disgust at those who laugh with the sadistic glee of getting their way.

there is knowing and not-knowing. there is lostness.

there is uncertainty in the insanity of these moments.

but it is right now. and this is where we are. still.

so i will take stock wherever i find goodness, wherever i find community, wherever i find even a bit of joy, wherever i find love.

and i will dance in the kitchen, make homemade tomato soup, grow parsley in the winter. i will hold tighter to his hand and hug on our dogga. i will be frugal and i will be frivolous.

and i will sit on the wire with the other birds, watching the sky turn from night to day and night again. grateful for the tiniest things – that sky, the birds who love me and who i love, the wire and the still of still being here.

*****

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

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