reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: presence


by Leave a comment

every falling leaf. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

in my son’s first year at lawrence university, i had the joy of visiting the campus fairly often. one of those times there was a comedian on campus and, along with a group of his friends, i went to her show.

it was fall 2011. tig notaro was about 40 then – though she looked way younger. i was 52 or so, not a heck of a lot older. following her bright career for a bit, it was difficult to see her deal with complicated and dangerous medical issues, the abrupt death of her mother, breast cancer, a double mastectomy, relationship breakup.

hundreds – maybe thousands – of shows in the growth of her success later, we watched her on anderson cooper’s – stunning – grief podcast “all there is”.

we stumbled upon this just a few nights ago – after you-tube-ing the news until we could no longer take any more in. anderson was visiting with ken burns and the show was titled, “the half-life of grief is endless“. there is nothing like an honest, open conversation about mortality and loss to draw you in. i repeated the words aloud: “the half-life of grief is endless” before realizing that quote had been – aptly – chosen as the title of that episode.

it feels true – in my opinion. the half-life of grief IS endless. and in that space we inhabit – that space that loss always shields with an impermeable membrane – we find so much meaning, so much life, so much right-now.

though well-acquainted with loss of dear people around her, tig spoke specifically of the loss of her friend, poet andrea gibson. she described the feeling of andrea nearby her. she read bits of her poetry. anderson cried. i cried. i think d cried too.

i never could understand how – when my big brother died – the world could just go on. i wasn’t a child. i was 33 and pregnant with my second child. but i still couldn’t grok it, even as i had lost others in my life, even as I could cognitively understand it. it was a gut-punch, yet i could feel him – wayne – nearby. i could sense his humor, his brilliant mind.

in the love letter that andrea wrote to their fiancée, they wrote “dying is the opposite of leaving…” and in the same, their words, “ask me the altitude of heaven and i will answer ‘how tall are you?'”

i cannot hike in the woods without stopping. there is so much to take in, so much for which to gently hold space, so much to be grateful for. just to see it all…washes over all the grief and enlivens all the grief. both.

and then there is this: “every falling leaf is a tiny kite with a string too small to see, held by the part of me in charge of making beauty out of grief.” (andrea gibson)

*****

LAST I SAW YOU © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

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


by 1 Comment

blink-of-an-eye. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

in a really rare moment, we had the amazing chance to have our children and their partners gather around the dining room table with us. to say i was thrilled would be an absolute understatement. it had been six years since we had actually been together – my two children and us. it was a giant gift and i am grateful for it.

plates, pasta, wine, bread – all were merely props as i gazed around me, watching these beloved faces, listening to laughter and conversation. i tried hard to memorize all of it. these brilliant, creative seeds of tomorrow, bright lights of real humans, of good people.

the next day we hiked, just d and me, after everyone had left. we talked about our blink-of-an-eye time with our adult children, about the fun chaos in the kitchen the night before, about the teasing and the ribbing. and i found myself holding onto the filmy threads of each moment before they flew away.

the photographs will help, of course. they will be posted in our kitchen and i will pass by them, often looking at them and smiling. but inside, i will hold onto the way it all felt, the heart-stopping hunger i had felt longing for a moment together, the breath i could exhale as i sat at the same table with my children and their partners or as we all clustered together in photographs.

but i know i won’t be able to hold onto all of it. time tugs at memory like that.

and the clustered fluffs of seeds will be tugged out of the pod by gentle breezes and fierce winds. they will swirl about and land somewhere, planting. another milkweed.

and i hope there will be another table-sitting somewhere soon – all together – as these brilliant humans go about their all-grown-up lives, swirling about with gentle breezes and fierce winds at their backs.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

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


by 1 Comment

who’s got time? [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“life hack: stop trying to be cool. be nerdy and obsessive about the things you love. enthusiasm will get you farther than indifference.” (posted on barkersounds IG)

this could possibly be my new mantra. nerdy and obsessive and (possibly overly) enthusiastic.

indifference slays me. the whole aloof, apathetic, flippant thing. all that gets under my skin, which is particularly sensitive to all the stuff on the opposite end of the spectrum from nerdy, obsessive about the things you love, and enthusiastic.

so that might explain the excessive photographs of barney, the old piano in our backyard, losing keys and structure in each season, its patina dusty wood. it might explain the innumerable pictures of breck – in every season – its leaves – budding in early spring through its golden age in autumn. it might explain why i take a zillion photos and generally completely annoy my adult children with my wish to capture them on film (well, “film” so to speak).

my sweet momma was a person who was also pretty nerdy and obsessive about the things she loved and, most definitely, enthusiastic. her “wowee!!!” goes down in history as a word she owned, and each of us knows we are referring to our beaky when we use that word.

life is short. that becomes more and more apparent as the years go flying by. the age spots on breck’s leaves are like the age spots i find on my own person. everything is fluid and keeps changing and the youth of our budding – like our aspen’s – is fleeting.

i can see no reason to not be nerdy. i can see no reason not to be obsessive about the things i love. and – yes – i can see no reason not to be ridiculously enthusiastic.

i mean, who’s got time for anything else?

*****

GRATEFUL © 2004 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

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


by Leave a comment

the vine knows. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

as autumn moves into full bloom, it is track-able on our westneighbor’s fence. the virginia creeper vine is fully immersed in the transition of seasons – producing berries for the birds, changing color day by day.

but there are fewer and fewer leaves now on the vine. dark is longer and colder and the cicadas and night crickets have ceased their song. in turning back the clock, there’s no turning back the clock.

and we head full-tilt into this season, knowing that winter’s lull will follow, that a time of fallow will start.

we blink back the wistful for summer, for early fall’s warmth as we head into the colder seasons. and we try to remember what we treasure about this next season, just six short weeks away.

with different eyes we look to the horizon of each day – changing our expectations, sorting to presence and appreciating each remaining leaf.

and soon the fence will be bare, save for the vining twigs.

but under the soil there is a gathering momentum of energy. and one of these days again – in the way that nature continues and continues – in the way that goodness goes on – it will burst open and we’ll see growth again. the vine knows.

in the meanwhile, we will wait and watch.

and hope.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly Impacts you.


by 1 Comment

attentively attentive. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

the headline on the catalog page read: don’t just go somewhere. be somewhere.

i lounged in the gravity chair on our deck and looked up. just beyond the peaked roof of our house, inbetween the pine tree and our westneighbor’s tv antenna, with the wire that stretches across our driveway stretched right through it, there it was:

the clouds had drawn the sun. exactly like i would have done it had i had big fat sidewalk chalk in my hand and i was drawing on the breezy jet-streamed canvas of the sky: an arc for the sun, rays coming from the hot center. it was obvious, clear, pretty doggone cool.

i grabbed the phone to take a picture and, before it disappeared as if someone had lifted the cellophane on a magic slate, drew it to d’s attention. we were both a tiny bit giddy at this small gift in the sky.

and that’s how i want to live. being somewhere. in each moment.

with all the horrific going on, it is not hard to wonder about time limits on presence.

so – in addition to paying attention, to drawing attention, to downright attentiveness attention to all of that horrific – i’m going to pay attention, draw attention, be downright attentively attentive to being here.

wherever here is at the moment.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

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


by 1 Comment

28 square feet. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

this brings me joy – stepping into this tiny little corner garden. each year it has been a place to wonder, to learn, to dream, to envision bounty. tiny as it is, it is a place of abundance and, even as autumn falls, i cherish its every bit of 28 square feet.

the parsley and the basil are still producing – they graced our homemade tomato soup last night. there are a few jalapeños left, still growing. the dill has dulled; the mint has faded. the cilantro has bolted time and again, despite my best efforts to convince it otherwise. the cherry tomatoes are ripening on the vine and the rosemary is a small tree. i suspect the rosemary will make its way inside for the winter. it all makes me think of next year’s planting – adding sweet potatoes in planters, more tomatoes, maybe a few other vegetables. it’s all been a lesson in embracing something new. it is a tiny space of zen.

we are considering some changes as we look around our house. in the cleaning-out mode, less and less is necessary. clearing away a child’s desk, a lateral file, unused appliances or electronics…it’s all fodder for the space we need – particularly in these times – for cherished quiet, for serenity. i am finding there is a direct connection between the more clear space and the more breath. it will take some time, as it has taken decades to acquire so many things. but we have time and, i believe, we have the wherewithal to go through our house, room by room, and invite in a sagefilled peace.

it’s really all about intention. though we do not live in a vast home and are not surrounded by vast acreage, we bring an intention to our home that is purposeful. as we move from room to room, slowly parsing out the unnecessary from the necessary or the wanteds, slowly replacing items with other items or replacing items with air-and-space, we tend to how it feels. we want to create a space in which we feel comforted, supported, valued. we want to create a space in which others feel comforted, supported, valued. we want a place filled with soul and acceptance of the inbetween moments in all of life.

today we’ll make a batch of pesto. as i look at the basil plants, i figure it will likely be the last batch this season. oh, there will be a bit for our homemade margherita pizzas, but not in real quantity. so we’ll go slow. snipping and rinsing, chopping and grating. we’ll talk about our garden – truly, for the umpteenth time. we’ll relish the pungent aroma of freshly-picked basil in the house.

and we’ll stand in the kitchen – looking at each other – with tears in our eyes – astonished at our good fortune.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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

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


by 1 Comment

that which to hold close. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

“life is strange. you arrive with nothing, spend your whole life chasing everything, and still leave with nothing. make sure your soul gains more than your hands.” (no attribution)

it’s happening.

we can feel it.

i stood in his shop’s driveway talking to our beloved mechanic. “a simple life,” we agreed. we just want to live a simple life. not a life lived for or gauged on the stuff we have.

because that stuff – the stuff of life – inundates us. everywhere we look people are chasing it – a materialism that just never culminates in any moment where it is “enough”.

and in these unbelievably fraught times, stuff seems even less important than it ever did.

one of my best friends from high school sent me a bunch of texts early this past week. we were out on a trail, trying to soak up sun and hold at bay the yucky cold symptoms we were experiencing. suddenly, there were multiple notifications. he had become a first-time grandpa.

i stopped short on the trail and looked at the photographs of the baby girl just born into this world. i was overwhelmed by the sheer miracle of that and the miracle that this man and i had been friends for over fifty years (despite seeing each other only once in all that time since high school) and – back then – it would have been hard to imagine the moment i was experiencing: standing on a trail in a completely different state five decades later while he shared the moment of his entry into grandparenthood. truly a remarkable gift.

there were other moments this week, moments when i felt more connected to the world: talking with the woman with the jeep in the parking lot at the market when we went to pick up more advil, the frog that suddenly showed up in our pond, the jalapeños we grew that were ready for picking, a note from a dear friend to “stay strong”. we virtual-tracked our daughter running an incredible half-marathon in the mountains and we listened to our son’s music online. friends checked in to ask if we needed anything. the other side of the spectrum from feeling appalled by the world.

soon it will be time to resume the cleaning out. i told our mechanic about the sentimental person’s guide to decluttering book i had purchased (hoping for osmosis to make it stick) and another title i had seen: “nobody wants your sh*t“, which we both found infinitely funny. and true. because it is. true, that is.

i remember when my sweet momma – in acts of generosity and kindness – began to give away possessions. she knew. she knew how little all that stuff really mattered. and, in these quieter moments of getting a bit older, i – we – can see that, even more than before. especially in these times.

it would seem that dropping the shopping bags and the trappings of the ladder are thresholds into the gains of one’s soul, into the real stuff of life – because, as my poppo used to say about the other stuff, “you can’t take it with you.“

and it would seem that – instead of the receipts of chasing and chasing – the buddhist prayer is that which to hold close:

“may you be happy. may you be at peace. may you be free of danger. may you be loved.”

*****

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

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

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


by 1 Comment

to fly. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“each of us is in truth an idea of the great gull, an unlimited idea of freedom,” jonathan would say in the evenings on the beach, “and precision flying is a step toward expressing our real nature. everything that limits us we have to put aside.” (jonathan livingston seagull – richard bach)

as this new school year begins i think of all the teachers and mentors i have known – those who were my teachers, my professors, my mentors, those who taught my children, friends who have been teachers, my own time spent as a teacher, instructor, director. immensely different stories, all over the spectrum.

the common denominator – to empower others to push themselves without limits, to reach their own potential, to become the best version of themselves, to fly. jonathan’s imperative.

growing up on long island meant – in the sheer sense of the word island – that i was surrounded by water. i spent a great deal of time by that water, particularly when i was able to get myself there – by bike or my little vw. i was always enchanted with the seagulls that lined our coastline, seagulls swooping and diving and soaring. the book jonathan livingston seagull was a treasured possession, kept close on the little bookshelf next to my bed. my paperback copy is waterstained and priced at only $1.50, evidence of its long tenure in my life.

even back then – on a beach towel at crab meadow beach in the mid 1970s – it was clear that the search for a life of purpose and excellence meant, also, a life of self-discovery and risk-taking. but susan polis schutz’s words “let us dance in the sun wearing wild flowers in our hair” rang for me as joyful north stars.

and so i watched and studied seagulls flying in community, flying alone. i walked the beach together with others and alone. i studied poetry with others and wrote in my tree alone. i sat on spotlit piano benches with a boom mic on old wooden stages together with others and alone.

my son recently wrote some vulnerable words. his post ended with, “…stick with it no matter what. tell your story.”

were jonathan livingston seagull around, he’d nod and think of an elder seagull’s words to him, “you will begin to touch heaven, jonathan, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. and that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. perfect speed, my son, is being there.”

i paged through my old book. and went back to the title pages.

there in pencil i had written one of the lines i quoted above:

“everything that limits us we have to put aside.“

*****

TAKE FLIGHT © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly touches you.


by 5 Comments

and so should we. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

somehow, this tiny plant is surviving.

it’s growing. maybe even thriving.

in this moment, in this time, despite all the challenges it has faced, it is facing, it will face, despite all it does not know, it persists – growing in the top rail of the fence that spans the river.

this tiny plant is grabbing on to life. and living it.

and so should we.

*****

IN A SPLIT SECOND © 2002 kerri sherwood

download music from my little corner of iTUNES

stream on PANDORA

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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

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


by 2 Comments

birdwatchers by dna. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i am surely turning into my parents. at least when it comes to their love of birds.

early this season – and after much research – we went to the nursery. we were set on purchasing trumpet-shaped salvia – for our hummingbirds. they didn’t have any but recommended cardinal flower, another flower that attracts these tiny birds.

we planted it in an old metal firepit out by the back fence next to the big leaf hosta, adjacent to the hummingbird feeder. and waited.

months. it has taken months for it to grow and to sport blooms. for a while we thought we would need to go find salvia, our original choice, to add to the planter. nothing was really happening with our cardinal flower.

until all of a sudden.

it shot up tall – almost as tall as the fence. and then, to the drumroll of the universe and its independent timing, stunning red blooms began to open. and, in a validating moment of glee, we watched a hummingbird hover next to multiple blooms and drink from them. finally.

this cardinal flower should have come with a note attached – “please be patient”. as it is a perennial, we hope it will return next year as well in this big metal urn. but we will plant some salvia just inside the perimeter of the urn next spring, because, well, we aren’t all that patient.

in the meanwhile, I’ve kept our red glass hummingbird feeder freshened and ready for any hummers on the move. it is completely delightful to watch them zoom in – they know the feeder is there – a tiny gps keeps track of these things in their tiniest brains. it never ceases to amaze us.

just like the birds who swoop in to the feeder out back or land on the edge of the birdbath, one of our favorite purchases from a couple years ago. they know. seemingly, word has spread to the house finches that we have grape jelly, word has spread to the sparrows we have dirtbath access, word has spread to the robins we have water to sip, word has spread to the cardinals we have easier access to food. because it is obvious that they know.

we couldn’t be more proud.

it starts for us when we wake to the sounds of early birds outside our windows. and, at the end of the day, out on the deck in the waning sun, we watch the swallows and bats compete for airspace while other birds seem to be finding shelter and places to rest.

yes, my parents used to sit for hours watching the birdlife. they seemed absolutely content, quietly observing and talking about feeders and birdhouses.

we totally get it now.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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

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