reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: relationship


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it matters. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we’ve been making do. one sprinkler – the kind that goes in a circle – has duct tape keeping on one of the nozzles. the other sprinkler simply refuses to sprinkle back and forth. it will sprinkle to ninety degrees and then returns to zero. it has ceased being a 180 degree sprinkler. nevertheless, we are diligently watering, despite the quirks of our roster of sprinklers. “next year,” we say, “we will get a new sprinkler.”

but right now it is time for us to get new hiking boots. our brown leather boots – which took some serious time to break in – have hiked with us for the last eight years. they’ve hiked locally, in the high elevation mountains of colorado, the red rock of utah, the rhododendron-rich mountains of north carolina, the door peninsula of wisconsin, along the coast of california and on the beaches of long island. it is likely they are hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of miles past their prime. they have little to no tread and, therefore, little to no traction. however much we love these boots, it is way past time.

oliver sussed us up pretty quickly. the gentleman who had been helping us left to go on break. he had been steering us to a certain brand – clearly his favorite brand – and he grimaced when i asked to try on different pairs of boots. oliver took over where he left off. and we are grateful to him. in the matter of a few minutes he was able to change ”steering’ to ‘accompanying’ us along on this new-hiking-boot journey. he laughed and asked us a few questions after we told him we were suffering through this new-boot-decisions. joking, he lightened the spirit around our shoe-trying-on-chairs and zeroed in on the way we would use our boots. “functionality,” he pointed out. he was both practical and reassuring and he spoke straight-up about the choices that were there in front of us, never being pushy, aware that there are other places with other brands or models that might work better. and sometimes there is a boot that will become the in-the-meantime boot. functionality. he became our favorite boot salesperson.

when the drain-guy was at our house he described two ways of fixing the piping under our sink, one way more involved than the other. i’m pretty sure he could see us both staring at him, in decision purgatory. he began to speak again, this time explaining that he is a functionalist and giving us the nitty-gritty on what he thought. his candid approach – with truth and common sense – was the help we needed. we chose the simpler fix, acknowledging that the other was likely overkill at this time. he is our favorite drain guy.

i had only seen my doctor twice before, both visits within the brief time parameters of whatever it is the healthcare company and insurance company deem appropriate. when she – at the end of my follow-up for that what-seemed-like-a-heart-event – recommended that i try myofascial massage, her confidently professional voice softened a bit and i could feel empathy in this physician i barely knew. it was in those unrushed moments of concern and in her caring recommendation that i felt nurtured. in those moments she became a person i trusted and with whom i would look forward to establishing a patient-doctor relationship.

it doesn’t take too much. but a slight tilt of the head, a person really listening, a few extra minutes all make a difference. it all matters. each of these seemingly inconsequential experiences was a validation of the consequential power of nurturing another. d and i talked about each experience later.

and we talked about how much different our world might be – if every time we had the chance to nurture someone in some way – even the simplest of ways – if we took that opportunity. to go the extra. what might happen. the concentric circles would explode outward.

we will never know how big our tiny nurturing moment of another might actually end up. but it matters nonetheless.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

listen to NURTURE ME: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kPwr5cteZc

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sacred space between us. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

“…let’s live like mountains: two worlds rooted together but each cutting its own shape into the changing sky…” (james a. pearson – the space between us)

the sacred space between us.

when david proposed – over a decade ago – he gave me two rings. identical in style, they had textural differences. both sterling silver, one had a textured band with a smooth round globe and the other a smooth band with a textured round globe. he spoke words to the effect that we each brought similarities and differences into this space we would now share. to him it – our marriage – was best represented by two different rings worn together, side by side.

in the years that have gone by, i have watched these two rings become more alike – time is wearing them down, has minimized the textural differences as this sacred space between us has grown. we mountains have rooted together – like aspen trees in a forest – and, standing next to each other, though we cut our own shapes into the sky, we are becoming a mountain range.

in the way that time carves lessons and learnings into our hearts and minds, time has gifted us with the fire and flow of good relationship – both – that rubber band of intimacy that holds tight and stretches and snaps back like a bungee cord – eager to find center once again. fusion and fission, elements of the canyoned valley we share between us. we hold it gently in our joined hands.

and i wonder if the rings will become so similar that the difference in textures will be impossible to see.

what i do know – no matter how texturally identical they are or become, they started as two and carry two worlds with them. we – like all in relationship – bring different gifts with us. these gifts of the other help us evolve – they add to our sedimentary bedrock.

it is my instinct to seek words of wisdom about this space – this sacred space – between us. the union, the adapting, the transitions, the growth, the times of storm and times of calm.

but, instead, i will just watch my rings. and as they wear and change, i’ll keep renewing our roots, grounding us in center somewhere between our mountains in a meadow of wildflowers under the sun.

*****

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

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more beautiful now. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we live by big water.

much the way we are drawn to the mountains, we are drawn to big water. more and more. both.

and more and more – each and every day – we are amazed. even by its ordinary. big and little ways.

diamonds have ridden the waves of lake michigan for all time. yet, each day further on the timeline of this life, they become more beautiful, more intense, sparklier.

the lyrics brought tears to both of our faces as we listened. susan had sent us a song, “you were beautiful then but you’re way more beautiful now.” (beautiful now – james maddock )

yes. yes, this is true. i have seen photographs of him younger. he looked a lot like david cassidy – that longer, feathered back hair, those eyes, that smile. he was – in every good use of the word (feminine or masculine) – beautiful. i didn’t know him back then. just like he didn’t know me in my midriff-hiphugger-bellbottom-wearing days. those days – well – those are the olden days.

but now is different. i look at his face and his eyes, his long hair peppered with grey – this man now – and i know – just like the song – he is way more beautiful now.

and so, for a bit, i wonder why the diamonds on the lake are more beautiful and why the sky is bluer and why the early morning air is breathtaking and why this man – sharing life with me for eleven years – is more beautiful now than he was then.

and i know that every single thing is.

it is impossible to hold onto the gossamer threads of these moments now. they fly by and next week i will feel like this week was eons ago. we are trying to hold them as we drift by in this sometimes-lazy-sometimes-raging river. they slip out of our hands, like trying to hold onto the river itself.

and everything – every single thing – has its own sparkle.

and we try to see that each day. we try to remember our very fragile place on the soil of this earth. we try to grok beauty in the simplest things and in the hardest things.

mostly, though, we can see it in each other and it reminds us. however beautiful he was before, he is way more beautiful now.

“from sleep i fall to waking” and morning – like time, in the way it keeps going and going – graces everything with shiny, shimmering glitter.

we look and – now – we can see it.

way more.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

EMBRACED NOW mixed media 48″ x 36″

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salty daisies. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

in the rare moments d texts me, my phone ringtone is john denver’s annie’s song.

“you fill up my senses like a night in the forest, like a mountain in springtime, like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean, you fill up my senses, come fill me again.

come let me love you, let me give my life to you. let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms. let me lay down beside you, let me always be with you. come let me love you, come love me again…”

and in those moments – daisy moments – i am reminded, once again, of the improbability of two tiny starflecks in the universe noticing each other, of the utter impossibility of our meeting, the sheer unlikeliness of our marrying, the astounding unimaginable gift of our time together.

even in the moments when my senses are overburdened, impatient, saturated, senseless.

daisies in any form, every stage – this wildflower fleabane – are just like hearing annie’s song. because i am me, they bring tears to my eyes.

“remember,” they whisper from the meadow on the side of the trail, “just remember.”

a long, long time ago my big brother penned a calligraphy print. it says, “may there be such a oneness between you that when one weeps the other will taste salt.”

we are beyond fortunate.

and salty and grateful.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

AND NOW ©️ 2015 kerri sherwood

GRATEFUL from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

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seeing. not seeing. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

i wear one contact lens. it’s in my left eye and it is to correct minor nearsightedness. wearing only one contact allows me to use my other eye to see close-up – to mostly be able to read without the aid of readers. somehow my brain figures this all out and i don’t have to close my right eye while driving or my left eye while reading – because all that would be awkward and weird.

clear vision – particularly at night in the rain with orange construction barrels and no streetlights and lane lines worn to little or no paint – is essential. it’s my least favorite set of circumstances to drive in, discounting white-out snowstorms and ice. it’s nice to be able to see.

and for those days when contacts are not working – the days of allergies or tired eyes – i have a pair of backup john-denver-glasses to don while driving. because it’s essential to see.

we just read the little prince aloud together. i don’t remember crying at the end any other time i have read this book. but this time i did.

as the prince’s soul was whisked away – his body dying on the earth by snakebite – back to his tiny planet where his tiny beloved rose waited – i wiped tears from my eyes.

this simple book – supposedly a children’s book but so much a necessary read-every-once-in-a-while adult’s book – was just the thing. the nature of love. of relationship. of responsibility toward each other.

the louisiana governor just declared that the ten commandments shall be displayed in every school in his governance. for heaven’s sake. how is it that we have become this narrow? for starters, how audacious he ignore every other religion’s tenets. this is not visionary. this is not seeing.

perhaps he would be better served to declare the little prince essential reading. he would be better served to encourage his populace to look with their hearts, to value the basics of goodness and fairness and loving one another. but in these days of politicizing every single thing, i guess he just decided to go with narrow bigotry to see where it might get him. narcissistic power is on the rise. as is the popularity of meanness and aggression. and the little prince shudders.

i’m pretty sure the little prince made me cry because of just that. there is so much – out there. we are hearing every single horrid thing. media is having a field day and it’s horrifying just to phone-scroll the “news”. what we see…what we find there…unconscionable.

instead, we will find the richness in the elderly woman pushing her walker on the trail, her son by her side, chatting. we will find the generosity in the gift of a garden flower. we will find kindness in the invitation of inclusion. we will find concern in the check-in text of an old friend. we will find hope in the little-less-lonely uplift of voice on the phone. we will find resilience in the planting of trees, the naming of stars, the grieving expression of loss. we will find forgiveness in time spent together. we will find healing in turning toward and not away. we will find love in another’s eyes.

the little prince – tiny, tiny. but with a giant and sighted heart.

we need to really look and see – what is transparent, what is truth, what is life-giving, what is equitable and not limiting, what is sustaining, what is fair, what is kind, what is loving – with clear eyes and whatever wisdom of the ages we might summon. we need to ponder and sort and be honest. what we may lose otherwise are the essentials. the basics. the geared-down actual heart of humanity.

read the little prince. you’ll likely weep a little.

*****

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

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the power of the cart. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

it happened again.

we stood there – in fresh thyme – tawking, tawking, tawking – for at least 45 minutes. we hugged, we showed photographs, we told stories. we laughed, we got serious, we spoke in earnest, we laughed more. delightful, it was a total social experience. a visit. in the grocery store.

and when we left, waving and still laughing, we promised to continue our catch-up. a bit later. in person. not in an aisle.

the thing is – these bits and snatches of community are important. and i, for one, am grateful to the cart.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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

“follow me where i go, what i do and who i know. make it part of you to be a part of me. follow me up and down, all the way and all around. take my hand and say you’ll follow me.”

“you see I’d like to share my life with you and show you things i’ve seen. places that i’m going to, places where i’ve been. to have you there beside me, to never be alone. and all the time that you’re with me, we will be at home…” (john denver)

the first time i saw the rockies i was 18. i was in the backseat of my mom and dad’s dodge and they took my breath away. i was changed – those mountains stayed a part of me.

so when it was that he was from there, it just seemed right. our path now includes going there fairly regularly and always a desire to be there more and more, to return and return, to linger. those mountains…it’s that john muir quote: “the mountains are calling and i must go.”

there will be a day soon he will follow me to long island. we’ll go to the regular haunts. we’ll bring sage with us and, having lost them forty-five years ago, i’ll take those places back. and he will be there. with me. our path will take us to the beach and to the harbor, maybe out on the sound, definitely past my old house. we’ve been there together before – because we have followed each other – taking turns leading the way – for over a decade now.

“…take my hand and I will follow you.“ (j.d.)

the path through the john denver sanctuary in aspen leads past boulders of lyrics. we amble our way through, choosing to be slow. we have returned here. we will return again and again.

“come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops, sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars…” (j.d.)

we have danced in places noisy and places quiet. we have danced in places with music and without. we have waltzed on our deck, in our kitchen and on dusty dirt trails. we have carried the wind with us and discovered stars on the horizon we had not noticed before. the path winds and makes unexpected turns. laughing and crying turns. and we trust it together.

“you fill up my senses like a night in the forest, like the mountains in springtime, like a walk in the rain, like a storm in the desert, like a sleepy blue ocean. you fill up my senses, come fill me again.” (j.d.)

and we tell tales of the times we did not share together, the stories of before. sometimes we tell them over and over. they don’t get old. they are the pieces that made up who we met eleven years ago. two weeks after the day we first set eyes on each other, he came back – to see if it had really happened. sometimes you have to see home more than once to believe it.

“this is my autograph…here in the songs that i sing, here in my cry and my laugh, here in the love that i bring. to be always with you…and you always with me.” (j.d.)

and each path now – in the simple times and in the fancy times – we’ll hold hands or link arms, we’ll dance, we’ll lead, we’ll follow.

and the path will always bring us home.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

EMBRACED NOW mixed media 48″x36″

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this is that day. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

what is it they say? a blessing and a curse.

yes. remembering dates can be both. on one hand, you can suddenly recall that something absolutely splendid happened on this very date – that it was life-altering, that it was the beginning of a new journey, a divergent path in the woods. on the other hand, you can suddenly recall that something absolutely dreadful happened on this very date – and it slams into you and holds you down for a moment or two while you catch your breath, gulping air, grasping at remembering you are no longer in that very moment on that very day.

today is one of those remembering dates.

but today is the first kind.

eleven years ago today – in baggage claim of o’hare airport – in a pair of jeans, a black sweater and some boots (an outfit pondered over for days) – i stood, holding a single daisy, waiting to finally meet this person i had been communicating with for about six months every single day.

and that moment – on that day – in that place – with that outfit on – was about to change my life.

you can’t always pinpoint those moments, exactlyyy. you know that something – some set of circumstances or events combined to change you – but you don’t always know the moment when something in-real-life enters your life and nothing will ever be the same.

it wasn’t like stars exploding or fireworks. no bells rang in my head. i didn’t faint or have palpitations. i was not weak-kneed. i wasn’t wowed or wooed or walloped. i did not whoop in overwhelming wonder.

i laughed. we hugged. and we skipped. and i felt like i had come home.

the universe had somehow – in some kismet-ish sort of way – sorted through the billions of people on this good earth – and had connected me to a person who would give me equal shares of blissful moments and infuriating moments, the person who would be my favorite person, the person who would be my favorite pain-in-the-ass, the person who would make me think and feel and cry and snort, the person who would be my rock in a never-ending river complete with gentle pools of lazy and boulder-laden whitewater rapids, the person whose kiss on the top of my head nearly breaks my heart open.

this is that day. i remember it.

❤️

*****

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

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on a curve. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

i felt compelled to tell him. the models in the bra commercial? they are not me. i do not resemble them in any way. not their perfect hair. not their perfect skin. not their perfect…yeah…anyway… “that’s not me,” i told him. he stared at me.

choosing things to wear – particularly to special occasions – is a big deal. we women take that seriously. it needs to be just right. not too much. not too little. not too overstated. not too understated. not too fancy. not too plain. not too overdressed. not too underdressed. there are just sooo many parameters, so many things to consider, so many unknowns…which adds up to much pressure.

then…drumroll…add to all that the factors of menopause and aging and whatever-perfection-there-was-giving-way-to-gravity and you have one helluva what-to-wear predicament.

so, this should never be underemphasized.

the grading curve of how-does-this-look is an absolute modifier.

particularly for partners of women who ask for an opinion.

we want the truth – don’t let us wear THAAAAT – but we also want some grace.

i mean, we are NOT the glamorous bra models in the commercials. we are real-life women who have had real-life physical challenges and babies and stresses and aging and a few too many chips and too few protein drinks, not hydrated enough and overly saturated with the emotions of modern day life, with chutzpah and flexibility and many, many plates spinning at the same time.

grade on a curve, schnuckums, grade on a curve.

yup.

luv ya!

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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chipface. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

20 sees faces everywhere. and because he does, so do we. taking the donkey chip out of the bag, it was without hesitation i sent him chipface, pointy nose, weak jaw and all. he sent some snide remark back, making me laugh aloud. communication at its best.

i sorted through some of the most brilliant comments i’ve heard in recent days to choose an apt quote for this little guy. i decided to pick the one that is most obvious, the no-duh-est, the thing people who do-as-i-say-not-as-i-do often say. i agree wholeheartedly with chipface. communication IS the biggest thing in any relationship. and lack of communication – with its undercurrents – makes fools of all of us.

christopher wool holds nothing back. his work is stark and transparently void of flowery language. the piece pictured below – “fool” – sold for $7.8 million at a christie’s london sale in 2012. its predecessor “blue fool” sold for just over $5 million and was identical but with blue font. clearly, black is more fashionable than blue. mostly, it makes me laugh aloud to read that someone paid $7.8 million to own the painting of the word “fool”. particularly because christopher is said to not “suffer fools” and his pushback on people must be rampant. i do wonder if you’d only hang this seasonally – say, on april fool’s day – or if it is a piece for the year round…as a reminder…a humbling…a nudge.

david and i attended a talk in chicago between christopher wool and a docent at the art gallery. in pure christopher wool tongue-in-cheek deliciousness, after the docent went on and on about the premise behind one of wool’s photography pieces, after she touted his possible psychological state and the philosophical underpinnings of his work, he shrugged, looked at the audience and – advancing his relationship with that audience by leaps and bounds – merely said, “i took the photograph because i liked it.”

communication at its best. yes. truth. pure and simple.

chipface woulda loved it.

*****

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

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