reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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last spring. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“and the seasons they go round and round/and the painted ponies go up and down/we’re captive on the carousel of time/we can’t return, we can only look behind/from where we came/and go round and round and round/in the circle game.” (the circle game – joni mitchell)

and then there was spring.

the grasses greened. the trees budded. the birds busied themselves with nests and babies. the lake answered the sky in pastels. and winter was over.

there was no fanfare for the spring, no good riddance for the winter. it just quietly morphed from one to the other.

as we walked along the shoreline of lake michigan, i couldn’t help but recall last spring. it was a different time. a very different time.

i looked back to a time when everything was not in disarray…when our nation was not perched on the precipice, ready to fall into authoritarianism. i breathed easier last year. i was not convinced that evil and cruelty were leading our country, taking it down to the depths of corruption, no compassion in sight. lives were not roiled in rifts; moral compasses were – at least a tad bit – more present.

i feel nostalgic. for last spring. regrets are funny like that. not really appreciating the spring of ’24 until we are in the spring of ’25.

and now, as we go round and round and up and down i wonder what’s in store. it is clear we can never go back – we can’t get there from here – to the same country we had. but we can look behind us and see from where we came. we can do whatever we can do – to resist the total demolition of democracy. we can step off the carousel and stand next to the painted ponies as they circle. we can choose a different pony.

we are captive to time moving on. but we are not captive to the carnival of this regime. we have work to do. like the perils of traveling roadshows, we need to shut it down. mechanical failures, operator error, structural issues, rider misbehavior and health risks are rampant.

this is a country. not a carnival.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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round and round. [two artists tuesday]

and the seasons they go round and round
and the painted ponies go up and down
we’re captive on the carousel of time
we can’t return we can only look
behind from where we came
and go round and round and round
in the circle game
” (joni mitchell)

from the edge of the trail it seemed we stood in three seasons. with warm sun on our faces and verdant grasses poking through the golds of autumn aspen leaves, the snow sought refuge in the shade. three seasons. concurrent.

as we stood there, in the middle of the mountain trail, it all swirled together – then, now, next. a kaleidoscope of color, of emotions, of moments. the tiniest of tiny in a vast universe, all else suddenly became distant.

we lingered in the whirl of shifting seasons, viscerally aware of our breathing and the gravity that was holding us still. it was an eddy of every-thing: old wrinkled leaves of regret, fading transient dreams, life-giving air carrying us into the next minute, a metamorphosis of time. the ponies on the carousel kept moving round and round and we paused, our feet in the dirt, sensing the circle encapsulating us, giving us pause.

we stayed there a long time, the scent of decaying leaves in the woods, the sound of a rushing mountain stream, the breeze rustling past us, our faces warmed. for these moments, in the middle of the middle, all the worries, all the fears, all the unease, dropped off from our shoulders. the concurrence whispered to us, “and the seasons they go round and round.”

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY