symphony | reverse threading

June 20, 2024
by kerrisherwood11 Leave a comment

on and on. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

the daisy might have thought no one would notice it. that it was past being noticed.

but i was drawn to it as we passed by. nestled in the grasses on the side of the trail, it spoke to me.

“i am not done, though look past my prime.

i am still in the sun, still standing in time.

though shrivelly and dried,

i don’t need to hide;

i know i am beauty and am very alive.”

i was surprised to hear a daisy speaking in rhyme, but not surprised at its expression of beauty, its yearning to be poetic.

i’m finding more and more – in my time in the sun now – that it is the poetry that makes me linger. it is the waning moment in the sun, the flower post-bloom, the cracked plaster, the weathered peel of paint. it is the imperfection that is attractive, the slowing gait, the putting-down of ladders, the simplicity of less.

like the daisy – i don’t know what’s next. i am steeped in the here. biding in the meadow.

but right now daisy’s yellow disc florets are in symphony – in a song to the sun and everyone else under the sky – whether or not anyone chooses to listen. it will continue on and on, weaving through the underbrush and the woods, past the river and up, up floating in clouds. it won’t cease…it is not done.

my song to the sun is gathering up energy. it, too, is not done. though nebulous, i can sense it wakening. though slightly beaten and weathered, i can feel it rising. though slower, i am aware of its resilience. though tentative, i recognize its imperative. the downbeat waits patiently.

a poem. a symphony.

like daisy.

on and on.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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

*buymeacoffee is a tip-jar website where you may help support the continuing creating of artists whose work is meaningful to you. ♡*

April 4, 2023
by kerrisherwood11 Leave a comment

a mission of symphony. [two artists tuesday]

though not quite as at-home as the cranes walking the edges, we know this pond. we knew it as a marsh. we knew it as dry dirt. we knew it with mulch strewn throughout as they eradicated invasive species. we watched as the rains began to fill it. we listened to the quiet wind ripple across its surface. and then, one day, we heard the first frogs. though we cannot see them, the orchestra pit is filled with frogs in chorus. the static becomes a symphony.

such is the way of a choir. for well over three decades, i conducted groups of people who chose to sing – in choir. they gathered, sitting in folding chairs cold with mid-week evening thermostat dips. they gathered, weary from their days at work or home, filled with activities of responsibility, of life. they gathered, to become a symphony.

the thing about choir rehearsals is that – with good leadership – they go from a meeting of a group of individuals to a collaboration of musicians, from quiet chatter to boisterous song, from people who possibly feel ill-at-ease to people whose voices are heard, whose hearts are seen. choir rehearsals are community events and – led with joy – become places that are generative, places that are accepting not competitive, places of great learnings and tremendous laughter, places that are spaces filled with concern for the other, lifting up of each other, a place with a mission of goodness, a mission of symphony.

i’ve missed being a choir director. it’s been over two years now and the lack of vocal choirs, ukuleles, handbells, worship bands is palpable for me. directing was always about the community – building it, reinforcing it – life-giving, loving. my resume shows seven churches along the way. seven communities in which i offered all i could give, responding to their individual needs, their particular circumstances, their strengths and their weaknesses. seven fluid rivers of music-making.

seven ponds with symphonies. rippling out.

quietly static to extraordinarily alive.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

February 26, 2021
by kerrisherwood11 Leave a comment

thirteen seconds. [k.s. friday]

even the lake moaned in answer to the cold. waves pummel the ice from below, desperate for release, anxious to swirl and crash, and we can hear the sound of cracking, of squeaking, of water begging to be free. we stand and listen, transfixed by it all, this symphony in a frozen-solid world, a bit of music in the stillness of sub-zero.

for thirteen seconds we record the song of the lake, feeling a little like mother-nature-copyright-infringers. we marvel and watch, up over our knees in snow on the edge of the giant rocks that line the lake shoreline. ice, for as far as we can see, is shifting and the groans signal to us that, soon, water will win over ice, flow over stasis. soon, a lake that appears unmoving will reappear in all its moody glory and the suspended moment-in-time will pass. in the meanwhile, the lake will appear as a tundra, vast and flat, the horizon meeting the clouds, a straight white line of demarcation. the fury, the passion, the tides are hidden below the surface, furrowing their brows and incessantly working to break down the ice.

we stand there inside the song of the lake and take note of this measure of transformation.

we know in a day or two the ice will be broken up, the waves will return and the lake’s song will resume a cacophony of crashing, a minuet of quiet lapping, wild some days and gently calm others. just as we ourselves seem in suspended moments, we, too, trust the return of movement, of purpose, of the tides.

the sub-zero song of lake michigan.

*****

download a little music from my little corner on iTUNES

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

June 19, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

irato.caesura.fermata.lento. [k.s. friday]

the chaos of irato. a passage of angry, passionate. a symphony of irate engaging us, challenging us, buckling us under in its fervor.

“take a break,” earth-the-breathless-conductor would admonish. “hold and rest,” earth-the-counselor would encourage. “slow down. be deliberate,” earth-the-sage would advise. caesura. fermata. lento.

acknowledging the rage. listening. resting in the questions. conscious mindful steps. measured decisive action. slowly leading the way with goodness.

i suspect mother earth, in its mother-earth-wisdom, would hear the symphony as transition. the space between before and after. a time of growth and change and every possible note, every possible emotion.

we listen, as earthlings, imperfect-in-every-way, and we get lost. to live in irato is uncomfortable. a cliffhanger.

but mother earth smiles. after all, she knows all about suspense and the big bang and butterflies.

download IN TRANSITION on iTUNES

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

February 21, 2020
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

quarter rest. and the beat goes on. [k.s. friday]

quarter rest. one beat of silence.

with these broken wrists i have moved from a whole rest to a quarter rest. i have made progress playing my piano and my broken-wrists have told me when to be silent. in the silence the earth keeps spinning, we trek around the sun, everything keeps keeping on. but for a moment, i rest.

we are each granted rests upon entrance into this orchestra-of-earth. sometimes they are chosen, sometimes they are not. always they are necessary. it is in your quiet that others make noise, that others speak, that other timbres color the muted. the hush is yours to own; the rest is yours to take. the silence both sometimes frighteningly deafening and sometimes a grand relief. the metronome really never stops.

(a reprise of paragraphs from 8.13.2015 post): at 1am, we walked to the lakefront. away from as many lights as we could get away from, we laid on some old steps, bricks and mortar digging into our backs so that we could gaze straight up, watching the night sky for the meteor shower.

the streaks of white light across navyblueblack make us draw in our breath. i’m wondering how far away this meteor is…how it is that we, here on earth, can see this amazing sight. such a big sky. such tiny bodies in contrast lying on the ground, waiting for the symphony to start, waiting for the downbeat, the symphony that has been continuously playing, the downbeat lost in centuries upon centuries of time gone by. like any good piece of music, it’s the rests in-between the notes, the rests in-between the meteorstreaks, that build the anticipation, that create the emotionflow, that bring tears to your eyes. each burst, each streak of whitelight is a miracle, a tiny moment exploding in time, so far away, in vast vastness.

time stretches out in front of us. and behind us. we are tiny and we are big. we gather in the moments, we breathe them, we rejoice, we worry, we ponder, we move. there is no downbeat and the symphony is already playing, has been playing and will continue to play. always. it is magical. and it is vast.

and the beat goes on.

download on iTUNES

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

August 13, 2015
by kerrisherwood11 1 Comment

magical – this tiny. this vast.

at 1am, we walked to the lakefront. away from as many lights as we could get away from, we laid on some old steps, bricks and mortar digging into our backs so that we could gaze straight up, watching the night sky for the meteor shower. the late air was cool, gentle breezes sneaking past us in our vigil. the meteor shower information site said that at 1am cst we would be able to see 50-100 meteors an hour, shooting across the night sky. now, how they know this is a scientific study that i am not familiar with. but it is magical. and it is vast.

the streaks of white light across navyblueblack make us draw in our breath. i’m wondering how far away this meteor is…how it is that we, here on earth, can see this amazing sight. such a big sky. such tiny bodies in contrast lying on the ground, waiting for the symphony to start, waiting for the downbeat, the symphony that has been continuously playing, the downbeat lost in centuries upon centuries of time gone by. like any good piece of music, it’s the rests in between the notes, the rests in between the meteorstreaks, that build the anticipation, that create the emotionflow, that bring tears to your eyes. each burst, each streak, of whitelight was a miracle, a tiny moment exploding in time, so far away, in vast vastness.

this morning over coffee on the deck i watched a bumblebee fly to the big jar of sunflowers on the table. it, with seemingly intentional purpose, landed on the sunflower’s large head. i studied this bumblebee and, as i did, it occurred to me that it, too, was a tiny being in the middle of its own universe. that sunflower, i come to learn, is not just one flower. instead, it is composed of a mass of hundreds of flowers, all growing individually and from where each sunflower seed will originate. the yellow rays of petals are there to protect the interior of the sunflower. the sunflower, before blooming, will track the sun through the day, leaning in to garner its energy, intent on its own purpose in its own universe. it is, indeed, its own little universe, offering nutrients and life to that very bumblebee, who pollinates the flowers within the flower…and the circle goes on. looking even closer, i could see small quarter-inch-inchworms inching their way around the brown center of the flower(s). for that quarter-inch-inchworm this big brown field was such a big sky, and its tiny body was in great contrast. magical. vast.