reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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build the cairns. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

and 66 years ago today my sweet momma anxiously awaited her very next day – the day she would have surgery and i would be born. i’m grateful for her courage to have another child – even after almost a decade had gone by. i’m grateful for her bravery knowing there would be a caesarean section and recuperation, discomfort. i’m grateful for her fortitude to have me, even though she was older than most other moms having babies. and so, on that next day, i found my way home – into the air and the sun, a place of dandelions and daffodils.

home is sometimes elusive. we watch many people chase it on house hunters, seeking big and new and granite-y and double-sinked and updated and maintenance-free. we look around us – in our living room under a furry throw – at our old plaster walls, wood floors and the et al of a 1928 house – and we express gratitude. we are not chasing home. we are there. we have found each other and that – that very thing – has brought us home.

it is rare that we must follow cairns while hiking, as we are not in the backcountry as much as we wish to be. but if it is that one day we thru-hike long trails, then we will follow stacks of rocks to help us find our way. we will count on them as guideposts.

during this time of utter chaos in our country, we are not recognizing things and people around us – near and far – as the home we have understood. we are astounded by the fast changes and the cheering squad supporting the overturning of goodness. the guideposts of normal have disappeared, the landmarks are skewed. wise cairns have been demolished. we are disoriented.

we took a walk along the lakefront in our ‘hood. right over by the beach house where we had the food truck, daisy cupcakes and bonfire of our wedding, there was a path down to the beach. we took it.

oftentimes, there are cairns on this sand – beautiful towers of lakefront rocks – standing tall off the edge of the surf. but there were no cairns.

so we built one.

a pilgrimage point. a token reminder – we are here. we have found our way.

we are home. and we will find our way through the rest. together.

****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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daisy dust. [d.r. thursday]

there is a single dried daisy on the dashboard of littlebabyscion. it’s been there now for just shy of ten years. i don’t suppose it really even looks like a daisy anymore, but it is. it’s one of the first daisies – well, one of our first daisies – from our first meeting a decade ago.

when we clean the inside of littlebabyscion, we are careful around the daisy – for surely, it could easily turn to dust after all this time tucked into the dash. if that happened, i’m quite sure we would survive. it is merely a marker, a relic of the start. time – and the we of this story – continue on. even – someday – after the dust.

she told me that she could see a small green shoot. in between all the beautiful dried daisy dust and the dust of fallow and the dust of disappointment and the dust of challenge, a small green shoot. she reminded me that all of creation is starting anew now in this season of spring and that we are no more and no less of creation than the new daisies or striped squill or dandelions or grand tulips and budding aspens and flowering dogwoods and early redbuds or cherry trees. we are no more or no less than the creatures busily preparing their nests for new birth. we are no more or no less than any planets lining up in the night sky. we are, like everything else, shimmering stardust.

i can feel the green. it shows up with the open window to my side. it shows up with the sun on my face. it shows up – roaring – in the wind from the west and it shows up – quietly – in the east side of the sunset.

in the decimated woods of the trail we love there is green sneaking up between the mulched branches and underbrush. the energy of the green is contagious. new possibility on the horizon…to abstract, to notice, to build upon.

nothing can quell the energy of stardust. no matter when. it – like everything – continues on and on, vibrating in absolute connection. a metamorphosis of seasons. daisies on the dashboard.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY