reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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thankful on the clothesline. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was in full support of intentional redundancy that i jotted this down as soon as nathan on alone season 6 said it, “the only currency we have is gratitude.

it was without hesitation i looked up belleruth naperstek’s prayer for healing, “just give me this … so i can start over, fresh and clean, like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun, my heart pierced with gratitude.”

it is with humility I find myself starting another new day – just after the fall solstice – with a clear etch-a-sketch, a blank notebook ready to be filled. there is but one breath between here and not here and it would seem prudent that i have wholehearted gratefulness for that breath.

so it is without any self-editorial skirmish that i write – once again – about gratitude.

it really is kind of about breathing those breaths, about waking up, about the turn of seasons. it really is about appreciating another inhale-exhale – this chance to be alive and how we choose to embrace it.

in these times, the distinction of starting over on another day is clear. the clothesline waits for the kind of prayers we hang on it. there is a vastness between billowing sweet sheets – fresh, clean, hopeful, and limp skanky soilage – deflating, stale, regressive.

we all have choices. we may uphold the efforts of those who forward goodness, who pursue equality, who speak emphatically about the care and concern of all.

or we may uphold the efforts of those who forward vitriol and egoistic agenda, who pursue limits on people based on bigoted skews, who spew vile exclusion.

life just seems way too short to live ugly.

i am personally choosing being on the clothesline in the waning summer sun. billowing and breathing and giving thanks.

*****

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

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black and white prayers. [two artists tuesday]

it is all in the intention.

our old door – leaning against the house on the back deck – is not high in the himalayas. it’s not at everest base camp or, for that matter, on any scaled summit. but, like the space in which our other prayer flags fly, our deck provides a place from which to release prayers and mantras into the wind, to hope for compassion, peace, strength, wisdom, and good will.

the cracked-paint white door leans against the white lapped vinyl siding of the house. walking sticks – mostly from mountain trails we have hiked – lean nearby.

our colorado prayer flags have faded and shredded to nearly invisible. i imagine many, many prayers blown far and wide, the wind pulling at the string on the northeast side of the house, a place of distinct breezes off the lake.

i decided to make our own. they do not have the words of prayers on them. they are not specific in a colorful palette. instead, they are black-and-white, save for one white-and-black flag. sewn of thin bandanas and seam tape, i was pretty excited to string them up.

and with them, as they are beginning to catch the breeze, as they begin to get tattered and worn and sunbleached, they will begin – just as the others – to send wishes of goodness and positive energy into the world.

we aren’t going to get all hung up about color or what is printed on the flags. for us, in these times, it’s all about the intention.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY