reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: perception


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seen. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

still life: leaf in snow.

chestnut against the white, you could see every nuance. every curve of the leaf, each vein, tiny sooty mold spots, drops of melted snow, it was still – landing from above and poised on its side. it was an oak leaf. no doubt about it. the starkness made the leaf’s characteristics clear, identification easier. the austerity made the image striking.

hiking in the snow is rewarding that way. all the background noise is gone. what is left are images of greater clarity, vulnerable honesty. i’m considering this as we continue down the trail – upon some of which we are lucky enough to be first to make tracks.

in a world of great complexity, it is much harder to see people with such certainty. peeling back the layers to such an overt degree meets resistance. people wish to reflect forward a certain image de soi. transparency fears enacted, one tries to create that which one wants others to see. it’s a natural phenomenon among thinkers – that which sets humankind aside from leaves.

when the leaf is viewed against the snow, we are able to see all of it. we cannot grasp all the intricacies of its actual living time on tree, but its remaining outerness is pure and we can – with some study – discern – from observation – what it is and much of what it has undergone.

in a world of opaque-ness – in these days of heightened division – i’m guessing it is important to study, to discern, to observe, to attempt to be cautious.

just as trees reflected in a puddle are not actually trees – they are merely a reflection – people are capable of the same puddling behavior. with caution we should give attention to the words others say or meme-post or quip in conversation. with caution we should discern the source from which they have carried these words. with caution we should give consideration to spreading these forward, always measuring against truth and intention that which we quote, post, argue, even pontificate. though i suspect leaves are pretty much pure as the driven snow into which they have fallen, people – unfortunately – aren’t. and there is much background noise from which others may cherry-pick the image de soi que les autres voient – self image others see – their perception.

each day now i am surprised by agenda-riddled life in so many arenas. i wonder if the leaf stops to consider all before falling into the snow. does it realize it will be easily seen? in the process of nature, it doesn’t have a choice.

it is an oak leaf in the snow.

how seen – truly seen – as who and what we are – are we?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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pastrami mountain. [d.r. thursday]

“there are always flowers for those who want to see them.” (henri matisse)

through a rainy windshield we peered out. the windows were fogging up from the vast temperature change that the weather system had brought with it. the lake was grey, light glistening and playing upon it – the sun coming out from behind the clouds. the sky – left to sunset in salmon with lines of dark clouds dissipating – seemed to highlight the snow on the mountaintops in the distance. puddles had formed on the land lakeside, the point that jutted out near us. a photograph after the storm. after our pause, we traveled on.

sometimes things are not what they appear. the same object translates differently to each of us. the same place reads positive/negative; our interpretation determined by the lens through which we view, the way we approach life. we learn to discern what is real, what we imagine. we learn to assess what we see using mature tools of sagacity.

sometimes things are not what they appear. everything is a matter of perspective, where you are seeing from, where you are in life. we arrive at destinations, full of expectations specific to our own hearts. we see what is there through our eyes. it is important work to be sure to be aware of how others perceive the place, the circumstance. we learn differences. we learn compassion. we learn empathy.

sometimes things are not what they appear. some places are not as they seem. we learn to listen to our intuition, to be wary, to ask questions of what we see and of what we are told, to do research, to wonder. we don’t follow as lemmings and we don’t remain silent. we learn to speak up, to give voice to the disparity between what a place says it is and what it shows itself to be. we learn boundaries and we hold our lines in the sand.

sometimes things are not what they appear. some wizards are merely people behind a curtain. their bluster is bluster, their words intended to suggest power, control, whereas their voice becomes synonymous with hurting others and self-aggrandizement. we learn sympathy, even pity. we learn distrust and not to be blind to agenda.

sometimes things are not what they appear. some people are not as they seem. though their roles imply otherwise, we learn to cautiously be with these folks. we realize that others can manipulate our perception of things, others can run over our viewpoint. and we realize those tsunamis are without truth-seeking. there is little communication – it is silent and colorless. there is little transparency – it is opaque. we learn discretion. we learn that there are those who will throw you under the bus, who will subvert you, to raise themselves up or to accomplish their objective. we learn to expose this kind of betrayal for what it is, to push back on this brand of sabotage, weeds attempting to strangle.

but there are always flowers for those who want to see them. we find places and things and people who are indeed flowers in our garden. places and things and people from which and from whom we learn grace and wisdom and adaptability and kindness. blossoms.

and i suppose the converse-henri is also true. if you don’t want to see flowers, you won’t. your perspective will grant you that, an empty garden. if you decide ahead of an experience that you will dislike it, you will likely see only in black and white, your experience void of the colors of sunflowers and peonies, aster and purple mountain sage.

so, yes, henri, there are always flowers. there is always the single ray of sunlight in the clouds. there is always the glass half-full. there is always the beautiful in the ordinary.

and there are always mountains. for those who want to see them, they are even in the trader joe’s shrink-wrapped pack of nitrate-nitrite-free pastrami.

sometimes things are not what they appear.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

visit DAVID’S online gallery


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the doorway in [dr thursday]

the doorway in SQ PILLOW copy

www.kerrianddavid.com/the-melange

david’s painting SHARED FATHERHOOD makes me weep.  it is a powerful painting of two fathers tenderly and humbly holding their baby.  it is love in a pure form.  it makes me think of my son, The Boy.  i can see him in this painting and the possibility of him choosing one day to share fatherhood.

SharedFatherhood.10.17 copy 2

SHARED FATHERHOOD, mixed media 39.5″ x 51″

in the very corner of this painting is the morsel i chose for today.  a doorway.  or is it a window?  either way, it struck me as a morsel image, especially in the context of this painting.

the doorway FRAMED ART copyso many figurative doorways/windows, so little time….  is it a doorway into acceptance?  into inclusion?  into openness?  into home?

we sat this morning, over early coffee, and talked about our perception of ourselves.  how we can’t see that we exhibit the very things we tout we aren’t.  or, conversely, how we aren’t (in whole) the things that we tout we are.  how scary is that?  it’s human.  we ponder and perseverate over the things we believe.  and we realize in moments of self-judgement that, yet again, we have a view of ourselves that is perhaps somewhat inconsistent with who we are.  that goes both ways, however.  the times we believe we are not enough, we are incomplete, we don’t measure up – those times are also inconsistent with who we are.the doorway in LEGGINGS copy

the doorway in – to acceptance of where we are, what we have been through, where we are going – to learning more – to growing – to knowing we are held in grace – to forgiveness of others and ourselves – to trying again tomorrow – to home, a place of as much gratitude and peace we can muster and then even more – this is a doorway/window in to shared fatherhood (read:  parenthood) of the world, where each of us is responsible to do our best, bring our best, try our best.

THE DOORWAY IN – DR THURSDAY (DAVID ROBINSON THURSDAY) ON OUR SITE

THE DOORWAY IN PRODUCTS: wall art, throw pillows, beach towels, leggings, cards…

the doorway in TOTE BAG copy

the doorway in BEACH TOWEL copy

the doorway in FLOOR PILLOW copy

the doorway in MUG copy

read DAVID’S thoughts on THE DOORWAY IN

click here to visit DAVID’S painting – SHARED FATHERHOOD

melange button jpeg

kerrianddavid.com

society 6 info jpeg copy

SHARED FATHERHOOD & THE DOORWAY IN ©️ 2017 & 2018 david robinson

 


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after the first half of the concert.

bcatForgetTheFirstHalfwe went to a concert a week ago or so. it was a group of us and we were all excited about going. the band we were going to see is creative, talented, sincere and full of energy. what’s not to like about that?!

we caravanned in three cars. well, we dan-a-vanned, actually, with dan leading the way. he is a GPS guru and, if you can keep up with him on the highway, a great person to follow going somewhere.

we got there, full of anticipation and excitement. sat in seats one row from the very top, able to look out at the whole audience. many of us have gone to concerts together before; we try to do fun stuff especially as the winter sets in.  we laugh a lot and that is a very good thing.

the concert started with an infomercial….on video and a live push as well. i thought perhaps that was it….one infomercial is plenty when you have purchased tickets to an event that is not a fundraiser. but that wasn’t the case. with the exception of two warm-up artists who played maybe 3 songs each, the whole first half of the concert was full of infomercial preaching and over-done talk-talk.

by the time we got to intermission, it was easy to be annoyed. the first half of the concert was over. we hadn’t seen the band we had come to see yet and now we had sat through what seemed to be agenda….i have yet to figure out why this was so. what symbiotic relationship is there between these infomercials and the band we were there to see? do these organizations host the whole concert tour? do they underwrite the concerts in venues of their choosing?  do they play the band’s music? no matter how dedicated the band is to these efforts, was it appropriate to take up most of the first half of this concert with this rhetoric? i was sitting in my concert-seat trying to figure out this stuff. is that where the band would want me to start?

so now, here we are, at the second half. and i have to say, i am not “feelin’ the love.” it took me a good portion of the second half to get back to open-hearted listening of this concert, to actually hear the music and embrace it.

because: the band concert i had come to see was colored by the first half of the concert.

and then – there’s life.

wow. i can’t think of a better metaphor than this concert.

WE are colored by the first half, the first part, the beginning and middle of life as we step into the Next of life. “of course we are,” you say aloud to me. cognitively we totally get it. we shouldn’t bring into Next what colored us from Before. we have to draw the line in the sand. lessons – yes. anger, frustrations, disappointments, prejudices – no. each Next is a fresh start.  for that matter, yes, each new day is a fresh start.

d and i have been doing a meditation that was offered free with oprah and deepak. it has been about awareness and making every moment matter. now, i am all about moments (that whole thready thing and all.)  but awareness is a much bigger responsibility than we realize.  it’s so much easier to react than to stop for a few seconds (or however long it takes) and be aware. sometimes i find i should Stop longer than i stop.  awareness can be slowww in arriving, particularly if i stubbornly hold onto all the negative stuff.  we sometimes cling to that stuff as if it were a lifevest.

now…i am thinking:  in those moments, when i can feel myself reacting (strongly or negatively or angrily or with preformed disposition) to something, i realize (metaphorically) that i am at the (in-real-life) concert and i am looking at the second half through first-half-eyes. it is becoming an amazing tool for me to stop and think – what about the first half of the concert is getting under my skin for this Next?  am i aware that the second half can be even just moments after the first half?  it’s not always years or decades that separates Before from Next.  it can be minutes.   it’s shocking how blind we can be to what we carry forward, one minute to the Next.

the Next is full of good and hope and moments and not-what’s-lost-but-what-is-still-there-ness (thank you, ptom). stepping over the limen, the threshold, is necessary.  leaving behind the first half of the concert, the part that colors us and clouds our clear-eyed-hopeful-stepping-into the second half, is absolute.

holding on, letting go

itunes: kerri sherwood