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Tag Archives: suffering


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so much on our plates. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it is a raw clay plate dating back to the 1940s. signed by the artist in 1947, four years after my parents married, two years after world war II ended. the painting depicts a scene that i would guess most of us might yearn for: idyllic, quiet, a dirt driveway to land next to a lake, a house, a barn, aspen trees. really simple. really beautiful.

along the bottom edge of this plate – its paint peeling from lack of firing finish – is what appears the artist’s monogram logo and the number 47, clearly the year this decorative plate was completed.

and therein is the problem.

for there will never – in our lifetime – be a number more burdened by foul memories. there will never be a number that has caused more pain, more divisiveness, more rifts, more sadistic cruelty, more self-serving agenda-ized policy that undermines the potential goodness of this country, even in the context of the greater global world.

that number – i wish it was not on this plate.

just like i erase the word “great” every time i write it. just like the word “tremendous”, the word “ballroom”, the acronym “maga”, the word “woke”, the words “better than anyone else”, the word “fraud”, the word “pardon”. just like red hats. just like the american flag. just like the thought of congress or the supreme court. just like alternative facts and people talking over, talking over, talking over others asking questions. i wonder how i might ask others if they want frozen water in their glasses without using the word “ice”. i wonder how we will fare in the future with so much ptsd on our plates.

there will be fallout from all this. and much of it will cause a great number of people in this country much long-term angst. not withstanding actual suffering of people far and wide, we will suffer the use of words, the turn of phrase, the sight of the white house, viewing the vast footage taken at the nation’s capitol on january 6, 2021. we will suffer the stripping of rights, the stripping of conscience, the stripping of truth, the stripping of sheer morality, the stripping of democracy. we will shudder to hear recordings of certain voices; we will turn away from the video of people’s faces twisted – contorted – by hatred, vitriol, bigotry.

we will need time to heal. we will need quiet to heal.

i look at this plate and wish i were there.

*****

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

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errands and pompoms. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

there’s not much he loves quite as much as errands. our dogga is a total cheerleader for us to leave the house – taking him with us – to go to and fro around town or further. it doesn’t matter much to him if we are grocery shopping or making a costco run, going to the post office or ups. he is completely on board. his enthusiasm is unwavering. every single time it’s the same. he is dyyyying to go, as long as it’s with us.

i can’t imagine what it might be like if we all applied that kind of enthusiasm to every single thing. the drudgery, the exciting stuff, the near, the far.

last night we watched three guys climb the impossible mountain peak changabang. we could not – even in our wildest imaginations – imagine being on that trek, scaling that mountain, sleeping in a portaledge hanging off the cliffside. it was enthralling watching them succeed, but it was not without incredible challenge and pain and, so, it was not without giant respect for the commitment these three made to summiting. good grief. i was lying in bed under a comforter and was unnerved just watching this quest.

after that we talked for a while. one cannot simply go to sleep after such a summit. i wondered aloud what we were doing on the day those three guys ice-picked their way up and up and slept in a portaledge in negative temperatures with avalanches falling around them. david – in a serious voice – said we had likely written posts, gone for a hike, maybe made a sheet pan dinner. the comparison made me laugh aloud.

but then we really started talking – as we do – about all that might be happening simultaneously around the globe as we write, hike and sheetpan. it’s sobering. 

because – truly – in the same moments we are writing, hiking and making a nice dinner, there are others – elsewhere – who are both elated and suffering. there are babies being born and people dying, communities defending themselves in war, other communities starved for food and supplies, people in distress and families with insurmountable odds. there are those summiting mountains and those studying reasons why species are in decline. people fighting disease, people evacuating their homes. people concerned with climate change and politicians touting their own self-aggrandizing agendas. it is a messy, messy world.

so dogga is one smart dogga. to be enthused about some round-the-town errands – ahhh – he adheres to a simple philosophy. he accepts life as it is, without worry about perfection. he gives no heed to life’s temporary nature and does not regard summiting as completion. instead, he embraces now with everything he’s got.

we might underestimate the lessons we learn from those around us. in a portaledge moment last night – wrapped in a comforter and a quilt – with multiple pillows and the window cracked and dogdog at our feet – we agreed we need not artificially – through disagreement or disdain, jealousy or comparison, not-enough-ness or overabundance – create any suffering for ourselves. 

we need only make our days as good as we can. we need bring our pompoms when we go on errands. and – really – maybe every other moment.

*****

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assumptions. [merely-a-thought monday]

pages 63-74 should be required reading. “don’t make assumptions.”

don’t get me started.

“it is always better to ask questions than to make an assumption…”

don’t get me started.

“if we hear something and we don’t understand, we make assumptions about what it means and then believe the assumptions. we make all sorts of assumptions because we don’t have the courage to ask questions.”

please don’t get me started.

“make sure the communication is clear.”

oh, yes.

i’m guessing the reason we love trails so much is that there is nothing on a trail that isn’t transparent. there is no agenda. there is no discrimination. the forest is not riddled with malfeasance. it just is. it’s quiet, a sanctuary of truth, the sanctity of nature.

i suppose most of us have been the target of miscommunicated or misrepresented or mischaracterized assumptions at one time or another. there is not much one can do about this, shy of broad announcements of clarification or the slow dissemination of true information. damage control is never as successful as creating damage. and that kind of damage can be damning.

we need not ingest information that is untrue – we need not immerse in gossip, spread words that skew clear understanding, speak words that are not impeccable. because we have – likely – each experienced the fallout of some sort of assumption, it would seem just as likely that we would be suspect of anything we hear that appears odd, out-of-character, unsolicited, a complete surprise. it would seem that we would approach anything like that with caution, weighing the possibility of bad intention. it would seem that – in light of the hell we might have experienced in our own time-as-target – we would go directly to the source, ask questions, try to find clarity.

but there are people who have not read pages 63-74 or, perhaps, found any other resource with this same basic human lesson. their lack creates needless suffering in others.

*****

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

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“suffer gloriously.” [merely-a-thought monday]

suffer gloriously

when you watch extreme mountain climbing videos every night you are bound to find morsels of wisdom and inspiration.  chris, one of the denali climbers, tossed us this one:   “i think it’s important to learn how to suffer gloriously.”  he added he “tries to put a positive spin on all his suffering.”  chosen suffering, that is, for who would doubt that there would be suffering on a climb up the highest peak on the continent.  alternatively, his suffering yields reward, a summit, or, at the least, an attempted summit, traversing in elevations few have scaled.

in the early 1980s i taught music in the poorest school of a small county in florida.  z was one of my students – he was in first grade.  i know he suffered.  his home was not far from the school campus with buildings attached by covered walkways, my music shed tucked into a swampy corner, complete with 3″ banana spiders.

z was a student who needed a lot of extra attention.  he craved it.  given his grave family situation, i know his heart had to be heavy, but his smile was light-itself and he loved hugs and music class.  in that school, tucked into the middle of an impoverished neighborhood, where people spent days sitting on rotting porches waiting for the next day, there was much agonizing.  and, clearly, a hell of a lot of surrendered acceptance.  it was deeply inspiring to see children being glorious, even in the midst of hurting.

i heard somewhere along the passing years that z was in prison.  i shudder to think of all who might say it was inevitable.  he was truly stuck in a system that allowed very few to escape.  the ‘subs’, as the area was called, was a breeding ground for glorious suffering, proud faces lined with sweat and worry, ponderous minds sorting for ways to survive.

we went back there about five years ago, drove to what-is-now a fenced-in complex and no longer a neighborhood school so i could stare for a few minutes at the old shed in the swamp.  we drove around the neighborhood and stopped and got out to talk to a couple people rocking on a porch.  we talked about the old school and, with shining faces, they spoke with pride about attending it.  glorious faces.

when we pulled away, they went back to the chairs on the porch, under the collapsing portico away from the steamy sun and tucked into trees covered with spanish moss and yards of dry dusty dirt.  still suffering.

we drove away, a few moments of silence as i took it all in.  in my mind i hugged the little boy z used to be and wished for something better for him.  for a summit.

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

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