reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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to practice and to be. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

there are small house sparrows that make themselves at home under our awning. they perch and flit about and, every so often, attempt to start building a nest, from which they usually fly off after a bit. but they are clearly at home by our back door and we can see them through the window and across the deck as we sit on the raft and write.

as we entered the back door the other day – home from the market and with bags in our arms – i saw the feather, tucked into the old screen door. a sweet i-was-here…maybe a little we-are-all-in-this-universe-together symbol of reassurance, hope. this tiny grey feather – stuck on our back door – a tiny sign of encouragement, perhaps a nod of being watched over in distressing times. any way you look at it, we won’t remove the little feather,

distressing times. i’d say so.

from the smallest concentric circle in to the furthermost concentric circle, these are distressing times.

and, in the middle of reading tarana burke’s book unbound i read this sentence: “indeed, i don’t believe you can practice love and be in community with folks without an incorporation of accountability as an ethic and a practice.”

her book – all of it – was profoundly moving. she is the originator of the #metoo movement. her story resonated with me over and over again. accountability. accountability. i read and re-read it, this simple statement of ideology.

particularly in the context of this country as it is right this very minute, i stopped re-reading and snapped a photo of this sentence.

for there is not much more infuriating than to be in community with others who stress their transparency and, thus, following, their accountability to the others in the community but who are the least transparent and the least accountable. there is not much more infuriating than to see those who have wronged others – regardless of the community, the institution, the organization – big or small – get away with it, to take in those silently complicit, to watch the fallout, to bear witness to the lack of ethics indicative in letting others “get away with it”. there is not much more painful than being the victim of a lack of accountability, the dust – radioactive gossip, the decimation aimed and fired, the shock long-lived.

to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding each community member as important, as a cog in the wheel, as contributing, as morally obligated as the next.

to practice love and to be in community would suggest a set of expectations – rules, bylaws, laws, moral codes – that would reign supreme, guiding the steps and actions of the community.

to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding the fragility of love and its mutual obligation to each other as paramount. it would suggest leading with love, leading with respect, leading with support.

to practice love and to be in community would suggest holding to truth, to honesty, to responsibility and, thus, to accountability.

to practice love and to be in community would suggest that not taking responsibility, skipping any kind of ethical standard, having zero expectation that all in community would be accountable to each other and to the bigger picture would be the very antithesis of practicing love and being in community.

to be in community – in a freeforall devoid of moral compass – in a lack of answerability, no effort of liability, a structure without structure, without compassion or empathy, without the abiding of laws, sans checks and balances on the collective or those in charge, a governance with leadership lacking virtue – this is not a practice of love nor is it being in community. this is here and now.

grey feathers are said to be a sign that there will be a period of calmness and clarity. it is a buoying keep-on-going.

it will stay on the door as long as it stays on the door. and tarana burke’s words will echo in my mind as a north star message.

*****

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

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we kept on going. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

of course it would have been easier to turn around and go back to the car.

but the signs “caution: trail damage ahead” are familiar to us and we just kept on going.

then we saw the first of it. the river had overflowed its banks and covered the trail. i took a few pictures after we decided to keep going. i don’t have pictures of the worst of it. we were too busy navigating the water.

but, yeah, we could have turned around.

we didn’t.

it was a stunning day – really, remarkable out – and we had on sandals that were fit for the river. so we kept going.

we have watched countless pacific crest, appalachian, continental divide, colorado, arizona trail videos. and in all of them hikers are forging streams and rivers, slogging through water and mud. watching, i have wondered – in a mildly curious and very respectful way – what it feels like to encounter these water crossings and to keep hiking with wet socks, wet footwear. not that i haven’t ever walked through puddles – i’ve done that deliberately – but because continuing to hike means also trying to avoid blisters and such. twenty miles plus with wet feet is nothing to sneeze at. big kudos to those thru-hikers.

we looked at each other on the edge of the first flooded area – this particular day we had chosen this particular hike – and we kept going. we needed to. we’ve navigated worse trails in real life – a little water didn’t seem so daunting.

there were some bicyclists on the trail – they had already been through the worst of it. they gave us looks, asked us how we got through, told us they were turning around to avoid it.

but there is nothing like wet feet to cool you off. we hiked about seven miles or so that afternoon – through a lot of water – that reached our mid-calves. it was more than a little water. we were one with frogs and fish – all sharing the trail together. it was all pretty glorious.

keeping-on-going is something we’ve gotten pretty familiar with. not just on the trail.

you don the right sandals and the knowledge you can do it and most crossings are possible. going slow, keeping your balance, not minding discomfort, sloughing off the looks you get – when you are following your path – diligently aware, capable, trying your best – you can dog-with-a-bone keep-on-going.

it doesn’t mean you’ll not stumble. it doesn’t mean you won’t get wet or that you won’t get blisters from the experience. it doesn’t mean you’ll get to the other side without some surprises. there are no guarantees. edges are like that.

what it does mean is that you gave it your all.

we didn’t know how the flooded trail would turn out – how our hike would turn out – but we kept going anyway.

and that day it made all the difference.

*****

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

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the summit. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

don't worry

not being a real true climber, i’m not sure if the above statement is really true.  what about the “hit. climb.  hit. climb.” of ice-picking your way up?  what about crampons?  what about ropes and aluminum ladders perched against the icy pitch?

i do, however, know this quote has good intentions.

we are hikers.  trekkers.   i/we have never used a rope or crampons or ladders or ice picks to get from point a to point b.  and watching a mountainload of everest and k2 videos, documentaries and movies hardly makes us experts in the area of climbing.  we are not even novices.

but, in terms of the metaphor of this quote, i can relate.

surely, climbing a mountain with nothing to grip onto would be nearly impossible.  all organic.  all analog.  i’m sure alex honnold would agree that if there is nothing at all to hold, with either his hand or his foot, that would make free-climbing such a face a feat of the imagination.  there has to be something.  some overlap.  some crevice.  some tiny blip of rock.  something.

so.  enter the rough.  or, in the case of the metaphoric quote, rough times.  how would we ever get to the top without them?  would we actually recognize the top?  would we appreciate the top?  would we scale the uphill were it smooth?  could we?

or did some smart-ass mountaineer quote this just to mess with us?

clearly, the men and women who have climbed everest with all its personality traits, its twists and turns, its icefalls and crevasses, its sharp ridges and its deep snow have dealt with all of it.  they have not turned away as it was too smooth.  they have not turned away as it was too rough.  they have persisted.

and maybe that there is the point.  despite the rough, the smooth, the easy, the hard, the oxygenated, the death zone, the chilling cold, the sun heating the seracs, the avalanches, the perilous altitudinal affects, the glorious summit stands ready.

the mountaintop.  it’s there for anyone who just keeps on going.  through it all.

and isn’t that all of us?

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

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