
we were lost when we brought dogdog home from the farm. it had been a long time since either of us had a puppy; our dogs had long lives and after that it had been years. the first few days we literally followed dogga around inside the house, like he was a toddler in search of an electrical outlet or a cabinet without childproof latches. jen and brad brought us pizza and wine and assured our deer-in-the-headlights-look that all would be well. so we read pretty much anything we could get our hands on and discovered (re-discovered?) the fact that puppies really like confined spaces. smaller spaces make them feel safe, secure; they are calming. it worked. dogdog was happy to be in the kitchen-ala-three-gates-in-the-doorways. he seemed to sigh with relief at the end of the day going into his crate for sleepynightnight. he was a happier puppy and we were (legit) back in our bodies. boundaries facilitated maturing (for all of us.)
there is a whole lake out in front of our littlehouse. the yard is big and full of green grass and flowers and grasses and trees. the deck has space and flower boxes. and then there is the rocking chair. in between two closely-placed-spindles, perched on the lower rail, this little tree frog found a place of solace. snugly in this warmed-by-the-sun spot, he lingered for hours, the tight place perhaps restorative for him, perhaps simply a sanctuary, its boundaries affording him the freedom to stay.
boundaries are underrated. we need them. to flourish. the constraints serve us. our clear boundaries for others create balanced lives. drawing boundaries. growth depends on it.
early on, given, say, three chords – and only three chords – to compose with limits the angst of analysis paralysis. it gives a place to start, a direction to go, discipline and yet, boundaries that reach only to the sky. it eases up the balking-at-it of artists. it facilitates the creation of a composition. it facilitates artistry. it facilitates energy. pushing the walls of these boundaries back little by little opens an artist when he/she is ready, when he/she feels safer. one step at a time. one rocking chair spindle at a time. one kitchen-dog-gate at a time. one muse at a time.
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BOUNDARIES from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

















we were on a serene lake…no waves, barely a ripple. the oars sliced into the water next to the canoe with hardly a whisper, the loons in the distance calling. the gunshots in the distance rang out over the still lake and startled us; the loon answered. i counted the number of times in a row the gun went off…not sure why i was doing that, but hoping that it would make more sense if i knew how many times i heard a gunshot. i asked later if there was a firing range nearby and was surprised to hear that there wasn’t. i’m not aware of any particular hunting season right now, so i am guessing that someone was just out there…somewhere…firing a gun just to fire a gun. the juxtaposition of absolute serenity and gunfire was unnerving. it seemed that northern wisconsin wasn’t the right place for that.