reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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live this way. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

standing under the desert night sky – zillions of stars and the milky way just lingering out there above me. stunning. it was like an umbrella of humility. we are so very tiny, after all.

yet, on this clear night, on the border of arizona and utah, i stood holding hands with my husband on this stargazing deck, merely feet from dear friends. i thought about recent photos our son had posted of the starry sky in utah while exploring with our daughter. i could feel the love i had for each of them – it felt enormous – and yet, i am so tiny, after all.

last week i was taken by ambulance to the emergency room. i have never been treated by 911 paramedics and firemen before, nor have i ever been in an ambulance. but the situation seemed pretty dire and david needed back-up from people who had medical and emergency knowledge.

in the emergency room, i was struck both by how many people were present for me and how many people needed care. each person treating me was empathetic and caring; each one made me feel like they had true concern for what was happening.

and no one asked me about my political stance before they treated me.

instead, i was one star in the sky and they were each nearby stars. no one was greater than the other. we were all in it together, working with each other to a common goal.

in the period of time i was at the emergency room, two dedicated nurses, a doctor, an x-ray tech, other aides all assisted in attempting to figure out what was happening. hours later, i was grateful for each of them, for their expertise, their comprehensive care, their kindness.

this is the world i wish to live in…where we are all equal stars in a vast sky full of different stars. where we are all working together. where we have compassion and concern for each other, where we strive for everyone to be well.

this is the world i wish to live in…where rage doesn’t exist, where no one makes excuses for bigotry, where people bring their best and do the best they can for each other, no one belittles others, no one dehumanizes any one else – regardless of their gender, their race, their ethnicity, their sexual orientation or identification, their religion, their socioeconomic status.

it was no joke going to the hospital in an ambulance. everything most important to me was needlenose-pointedly front and center in my mind. i was scared and i was counting completely on others.

and i carried this from my experience – now, as i heal from all of it – reinforcing we need live this way. like we are stars in the sky – indiscernibly no bigger or brighter than the rest – all part of the enormous galaxy – all in it together.

we need hold each other up, lift each other up, live present to the moment, hold joy as our north star.

the opposite is toxic.

a punitive, uncaring, narcissistic, demeaning, rights-stripping, rage-filled, hateful, vengeful, limited world is a waste of time.

*****

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before it’s too late. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

to say i am beside myself would be to minimize this moment in history.

what i can’t understand is that this whole ENTIRE country is not beside itself.

what i can’t understand is that half this country is voting for a candidate who has no intention of furthering democracy, no intention of goodness, every intention of autocratic power, the demolition of human rights, acts seeking revenge and retribution.

what i can’t understand is the explaining-away – the sane-washing – the absolute worship of this incoherent, unworthy, unhinged, unfit maga candidate.

what i can’t understand is the hatred, the hideously ugly maga agenda.

what i can’t understand are members of this populace who are unswerving, unconcerned about fascism, about autocratic governing, about abolishing the constitution of this country.

we are the generation that has this moment in our hands. we are the people.

please consider reality.

stop sloughing off all the warning signs that we are standing on a dangerous political precipice.

stop viewing through rose-colored adoring glasses this candidate who could literally give not one sh*t about you – no matter who you are.

stop sickeningly acting like this maga candidate is the second coming. subscribing to that is an insult to your intelligence, an insult to the universe and to any deity you might believe in.

decide if you want fascism or democracy. and, if you decide fascism, research what that really means – for you, your family, your community, your state, your country. and then ask yourself why you would choose such tyrannical ultranationalist extreme ideology.

vote with conscience and with morality, knowing that one day you will no longer stand on this earth but you will have made a difference for those who came behind you, you will have created the world they will live in.

choose that world with great deliberation, meticulously, very, very carefully.

open your eyes before it’s too late.

*****

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shabaeawaka. unless. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“we can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.” (james baldwin)

i would add – or unless your disagreement is rooted in the oppression and denial of the humanity and right to exist of people you purport to care about – people in your beloved family, in your cherished community.

growing up, there were straw placemats in a circle around the perimeter of our kitchen table. each one had inked initials in the bottom corner – to designate whose placemat it was. ba, ea, wa, ka, sha, they read. in some moment, a guest circled around the table, reading them aloud, in order. “sha-ba-ea-wa-ka,” he read. and then, more quickly, “shabaeawaka!”

shabaeawaka became our family’s shortcut of the combination of our names – my mom always lovingly referring to the moniker and telling the story of its origin.

shabaeawaka – in all the ups and downs of a regular family – became a synonym for invincible ties, for family-sticking-together.

my sweet momma, even in the last moments i saw her, believed with her whole heart in the devotion of this family to each other. she believed in kindness and generosity, in acceptance and goodness, in joy and positivity, in love no-matter-what.

my sweet poppo – a mostly quiet man – died three years before my momma. he wasn’t one of those dads who would sit you down and bestow wisdoms upon you. but i could feel his staunch support of me throughout my life…as a child, as a young adult, as i finally made my way into my artistry, as a parent.

my momma stayed in their house in florida on the little lake as long as she physically could. she surrounded herself with the familiar of their lives together, always missing the actual presence of my dad, lonely for him. the empty vase – the one my poppo kept filled with grocery store flowers – stood in the foyer, an acknowledgment of unwelcome change.

but my sweet momma – well – she kept on. and as it became obvious she would need to leave her home and move into assisted living she chose to give away things from her home. the dining room table went to a family of immigrants who didn’t have a table at which to eat. her blue leather sofa went to a family across the street. my momma was not discerning. people in need of something were precisely the people to whom she wanted to give those things. even in her grief of moving, her generosity and love of others prevailed.

i did not feel the need – nor did i have the logistical ability – to fill rooms with items of my parents after my momma’s move or even after she died. but i do have remembrances of them. and i have their dna.

mostly, i have the ideal they taught me – that no matter what, you stick by your family, you uphold each other, you protect each other, you love each other. in no uncertain terms, my mom and my dad would stand tall next to each of us, buoying us and believing in us – the lesson of acceptance – no matter what – of the right to exist, to sustain, to thrive.

i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my life – in all its phases, in its ups and downs. i know – without a doubt – they have cheered on my daughter’s courageous and adventurous spirit finding home in the mountains, my son and his incredible and cherished LGBTQ community in the city, around the world. i know – without a doubt – they would support them to the mat, thwarting anything that might come between them and their freedoms as americans, as human beings. i know this not only because it was how i was raised, but this is what shabaeawaka is. it is the legacy of shabaeawaka.

and so i wonder what they are thinking now.

i suspect they are on board with james baldwin.

there were times of disagreement, yes. my quiet dad could get rather loud in moments. my sweet momma could push back on inequality, on the crushing of human rights, on evil.

but all was ok if the basics were still in place, if the disagreement – in the words of james baldwin – was not rooted in the oppression of them or their loved one, if it did not deny their humanity or the humanity of their loved one, if it did not undermine their right to exist or their loved one’s right to exist. those were the basics and the basics of any faith i ever learned from them.

I wonder what they are thinking now as they – from a plane of existence far away – watch this election, as they watch the unthinkable, as they watch oppression and the denial of humanity and right to exist on the up-close-and-personal do-we-love-each-other line, as they witness the undermining – the throwing away – of the tenets of their precious shabaeawaka.

i don’t know where the placemats went.

i just know i don’t need the actual placemats to remember what they meant.

*****

LEGACY © 1995 kerri sherwood

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the saddest perspective shift. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

from the patio of our airbnb, it all looked tiny. lake powell, framed by red rock, was a stunning blue under an equally stunning blue sky. the vista was beautiful. in the aperture of my phone’s camera, sans telephoto help – it was sooo small.

but the fact of the matter is that it wasn’t small at all. it was simply a matter of perspective. these sculptured vistas were a very long way below us – our elevation was well above the lake level canyons…perhaps even 1000 feet. it still never failed to amaze me as i gazed at it all, 360 degrees of amazing, relishing it at each point in the days we were there. it felt as if we had the advantage of a soaring eagle, looking down on this utterly gorgeous view.

such vastness was overwhelming. it was perspective-arranging. that which looked tiny was indeed of gigantic proportion.

and, in the way of perspective, i am just now beginning to understand something else.

in regard to the current presidential election – i think that i have been pushing back on the possibility, refusing to believe, hoping against hope – in terms of voters supporting the maga candidate and the maga agenda – that people were just ill-informed, not fact-checking, not paying attention. i was thinking that watching propaganda tv was smearing this vitriol into their brains, gaslighting them, and that – in the limited access they have chosen – they did not know better than to question it. i was thinking that reading, viewing, listening to the narrow, incomplete, customized rhetoric of maga tv/media was normalizing this candidate’s incapacity to be president, was eliminating details and that – were people to actually be cognizant of his unfit-ness, of these details – they would think differently.

i suppose – in some cases of maga supporters – that could be true. that that hateful bandwagon’s lure makes one indiscriminate, makes one not want to question or understand or find the truth. instead, it makes one loud, stubbornly clinging, ill-advised, completely deaf to reality, ignoring danger as if it didn’t exist.

and, in the other cases, i suddenly – and very sadly – had a moment of enlightenment, a perspective shift. and i am taking back the grace i had granted.

i realized that these people scroll just like me, they listen and read and, thus, they completely understand this candidate’s hate-mongering, the maga intentions, the efforts to thwart freedoms and dehumanize women, LGBTQ, races other than white.

i realized that they WANT these agendas, they WISH for nationalism, they BELIEVE that this candidate is their savior and that his racist, misogynistic, prejudiced, crass thinking, words and actions are entertaining and they AGREE with him.

i realized that they LIKE the thought of an america led by a pitiful human who pushes immigrants under, who demeans democracy, who touts authoritarianism, who dreams of power, who spews vulgarity.

i realized his sexual abuse of women, his hateful promises of mass deportation, his incitement of insurrection, his undeterred, adoring alliances with dictators, his felony convictions MEAN NOTHING to them.

i realized that they LIKE this grotesque and venomous character, this unending vortex of chaos and ugliness.

and here i was thinking maybe they just needed more information or access to research, to ask questions, to seek the truth, to consider their legacy, to hold to democracy.

here i was thinking that maybe another perspective might help them see, might help them discern, might help them find their moral compass.

here i was thinking that they weren’t hearing the whole story, that they weren’t informed, that they weren’t hearing what this candidate was saying, that they didn’t know what the maga agenda really was, that they had no idea what destruction project 2025 would inflict on this country.

here i was thinking it was a lack of awareness, a misunderstanding, not their fault.

i was wrong.

entirely wrong.

they WANT this.

the vista in the lake powell desert shifted when i realized that our vastly increased elevation played a part in my perspective. it recaptured the immensity that viewing from lake level afforded it.

the election shifted when i realized that this is – truly – what these maga people WANT. that i live in a country where people – half the populace – WANT the despicably ugly.

and that is the nadir of it all. the absolute lowest point that eclipses all other low points. rock bottom. tragic.

i have never felt such pure disappointment in humanity.

*****

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the point in the road. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it was a way cool moment of playing tourist.

here we are – in monument valley – at forrest gump point – the place where the infamous character forrest gump (from the movie of the same name) stops running, running, running.

we counted down the miles to forrest gump point – watching the gigantic rock formations – so recognizable from the movie – get closer and closer.

you could definitely tell where the spot was. there were cars pulled over and people standing in the middle of the two-lane highway. everyone was taking pictures and i overheard someone say, “i love being a tourist!”

i would echo that. it was an extraordinary point in the road.

reenacting even a moment from this impactful movie – full of lessons and positivity – could not be better timed. it was clear – out there in the middle of the desert – surrounded by carloads of strangers, laughter, people exchanging phones to photograph each other whether they were acquainted or not – that with inspiring, thoughtful, decent leadership, we – here in these united states – might all stand a chance to live together with common purpose, getting along.

but it was momentary – because that future must be with leadership based on decency, fairness, equality, love. it must be with leadership that values resilience, optimism, honesty. it must be with leadership that is absolutely based on and furthering the tenets of democracy.

and the truth of the matter is that we are standing at a place – a point in the road – where running – toward the future – toward goodness – upholding the rights of every american – aligned with morality and justice – could stop. read maga’s project 2025 or any snippet thereof.

what would that point be called?

*****

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

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flat-friends or real-live people. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

gobsmacked is weak. astonished makes it sound like something glorious. horrified is more like it.

i cannot wrap my head around the fact that half this country is supporting THAT candidate – a xenophobic, misogynistic, racist, authoritarian-praising, fascism-seeking criminal who cares not an iota about anything other than his own power. i cannot wrap my head around the fact that half this country is THAT ugly.

and what’s worse – it is because they are not thinking, they are not researching, they are not asking questions, they are not reasoning. they are merely believing what they are fed – hook, line and sinker. and they are flat-screening their ugly positions on social media, garnering likes and strokes – because they have forgotten what real community is, who real people are. the flat-screen has taken the place of real interaction, real communication, going to real places, doing real things, real life. the clique of people who would “un-friend” them in a millisecond – who are only on board the bandwagon with them for the same likes and strokes and hate-mongering – have become more important than real-live people. and they can’t see it.

were they to remember what real community is, they would be concerned with what would surely be the annihilation of women’s rights, the rights of the LGBTQ community, the rights of every non-white, the rights of humans under the constitution of the united states.

were they to remember what real community is, they would not substitute real-live people with flatland. rather, they would stand with real three-dimensional people in their three-dimensional family, in their three-dimensional friend-group, in their three-dimensional town, their three-dimensional state, their three-dimensional country.

were they to remember what real community is, they would not bury their faces in the screens and tvs that amplify that which feeds their clearly deep-seated hatred but which does not avail them of the facts, the danger, the intentions of this maga candidate. they would not abdicate their ability to seek the truth, to reason, languishing instead in the glory of maga popularity.

were they to remember what real community is, they would take to task this party which is undermining their personal communities, they would pay attention to how this destruction of democracy will actually affect their lives and the lives of those who follow after them.

were they to remember what real community is, they would choose love over hatred, forward-thinking over going backwards, together over divided. they would drag their faces out of their flat screens, away from their flat-friends, wrap their arms around the targets of this brutally unhinged candidate and tell them that they truly care about them, that we are all here to lift each other up.

but they don’t remember anymore. and they don’t think. and they clearly don’t care.

or do they?

i find that utterly terrifying.

this is a three-dimensional world with three-dimensional repercussions of your vote.

*****

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which story? [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

sometime between 300 and 1300 c.e. there were people in this south central utah area who wanted to tell a story, to preserve it. their narrative – told in petroglyphs – was about their daily living – their families, livestock, wildlife they hunted. it was a narrative of living in community. it is astounding to witness the carved chiseling of so long ago, humbling to imagine living in such a harsh, difficult environment. you can feel a pull from the earth as you stand there – something that binds you to those moments so many centuries before. you gaze at these figures and are struck by the humanness of this history – despite absolutely different living conditions, we all simply wish to tell a narrative of our living.

the petroglyphs we were fortunate to see at capitol reef did not depict fighting. they did not depict division nor hatred. they did not depict power or control struggles. they did not depict what would certainly be pictured as part of petroglyphs were there to be some telling the tale of right now.

in absolute embarrassment about how low this country’s people have sunk – the inability to hold democracy and freedom-of-all-to-live as essentials – the spewing hatred and vitriol – i cannot imagine what story petroglyphs etched into big red rock canyon walls now would tell – later.

covid has given us some free time. in-between moments of feeling absolutely horrendous, we have succumbed to reading articles, scrolling the news. it is utterly disturbing.

i want to scream, “this is not about you!!!” to people caught up in the despicable hate, in the misinformation, the disinformation, the conspiracies. i want to beg people to consider the future of this country’s democracy, the future beyond their own lives, to vote for something hopeful. i want to ask people to just stop, listen, think, consider.

i do not recognize you – you, who are supporting the heinous intentions of the maga-party. i do not recognize you – you, who are turning a blind eye to people in your midst who you claim to care about or even love – as you sign on to extreme changes of freedoms in these un-united states. this is not a difference in policy-embracing; this is a deeply undermined philosophical difference on humanity. i do not recognize your heart, turned so very angry, exclusionary, cold. and, in turn, my heart is broken, seeing this, seeing you – now.

but i know the power of rhetoric, the sheer toxic force of those who lie. i have experienced being the subject of warped narrative, of agenda-riddled powermongers. and in my tiny subset of experience, i have seen people – who i never would have expected – support the lies, push the ugly agenda, fight to win. but it is in their winning that they truly lost. and i believe they know that.

if there were to be petroglyphs or pictographs on red rock canyon walls telling our story – the story of we-the-people of these times – what would we wish them to depict?

it boils down to a pretty basic question.

is it a story of community? or a story of devastating division and hate?

which story?

who are you?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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get patriotic. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“there is nothing so american as our national parks…the fundamental idea behind the parks…is that the country belongs to the people, that it is in process of making for the enrichment of the lives of all of us.” (president franklin d. roosevelt, 1934)

it is impossible to stand in our national parks and not be filled with a pure sense of patriotism. the vistas of zion national park – and each place we experienced – sparked our “america, the beautiful“.

even right now, when the word “patriotic” presents entendre at best questionable, we could feel it…the heart-swelling kind, the proud-of-this-land kind, the we-are-so-fortunate kind. certainly not the nationalistic, extremist, exclusionary, divisive, white-man-only-drum-beating kind.

we were all trying to take a little time away from politics, from the news of the day, trying to immerse in the beauty and ignore the ugly.

but – i must say – ignoring the ugly in the middle of the beautiful seemed irresponsible to me. because just as our national parks are fundamentally ours – belonging to the people of this country – so is the constitution and the goodness of this country. and that, my friends, is in peril. and i could not forget it…even out in the sacred wild-ness of this land.

project 2025 – the playbook for maga – seeks to repeal the 1906 antiquities act – the first united states law passed for the purpose of protection of these national parks and places of national monument, protecting cultural and natural resources with historic or scientific value. project 2025 wishes to eviscerate these protections, giving that administration free latitude on decisions for all these lands.

standing in bryce, in zion, in arches, in capitol reef, in the grand canyon, we can only be too aware of the presence of the protections for these glorious tracts of land. we cannot imagine another fate for these places of intense beauty. this landmark law – the antiquities act – has safeguarded these places for the use and enjoyment of current and future generations – a law of responsibility and virtue.

the national park service pledge promises to the people of the united states “the owners of our nation’s parklands” – among other things: “to protect your right to experience the presence of superlative wildness and scenic grandeur, to communicate to all an understanding of the people and events that shaped these united states, to join with all people of this and other nations in conserving and renewing the total environment to keep this world a pleasure to live in…”

there was an older woman – likely in her 70s – heading toward us on the path. she was clearly enjoying her time at the park. and as she passed, she proudly wore a “women for –” maga hat on her head. i stared at her hat. every ounce of me wanted to stop her and have a conversation. i wanted to know what had happened to her in her life that made her wish for a man who demeans, abuses, detests women to be the president of this beautiful country. i wanted to know how she could – in all good conscience – wear a hat with the name of a convicted felon, a rapist, a liar, a racist, a misogynist, a grifter, an insurrectionist, an exceptionally narcissistic inward soul-less and pathetic old man. i wanted to know how she could support that candidate’s efforts to undermine the rights of so many. i wanted to know if she was thinking about any future generations. i wanted to know how she could justify that candidate’s desire for autocracy, for revenge, for a cruel and divided america. i wanted to know how she could walk on this sacred and protected land knowing that her candidate of choice doesn’t give a damn about it. i wanted to know how she could wear THAT hat.

i simply cannot wrap my head around it.

it was impossible to avoid. here we were – in the grand expanse of unspeakable and stunning beauty – and i was worried.

there is little time left before this election.

it is time to get patriotic – in the purest and truest sense of that word. protect the constitution of this country. protect the rights of the people. protect the land. protect your daughters and sons and grandchildren. protect the united states.

turn the page on this hideous candidate and the extremism of his ugly self-serving and incoherent, angry rhetoric, his vile intentions.

move forward. keep this world a pleasure to live in.

*****

patriotic: having or expressing devotion to and vigorous support for one’s country.

*****

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thankful on the clothesline. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was in full support of intentional redundancy that i jotted this down as soon as nathan on alone season 6 said it, “the only currency we have is gratitude.

it was without hesitation i looked up belleruth naperstek’s prayer for healing, “just give me this … so i can start over, fresh and clean, like sweet sheets billowing in the summer sun, my heart pierced with gratitude.”

it is with humility I find myself starting another new day – just after the fall solstice – with a clear etch-a-sketch, a blank notebook ready to be filled. there is but one breath between here and not here and it would seem prudent that i have wholehearted gratefulness for that breath.

so it is without any self-editorial skirmish that i write – once again – about gratitude.

it really is kind of about breathing those breaths, about waking up, about the turn of seasons. it really is about appreciating another inhale-exhale – this chance to be alive and how we choose to embrace it.

in these times, the distinction of starting over on another day is clear. the clothesline waits for the kind of prayers we hang on it. there is a vastness between billowing sweet sheets – fresh, clean, hopeful, and limp skanky soilage – deflating, stale, regressive.

we all have choices. we may uphold the efforts of those who forward goodness, who pursue equality, who speak emphatically about the care and concern of all.

or we may uphold the efforts of those who forward vitriol and egoistic agenda, who pursue limits on people based on bigoted skews, who spew vile exclusion.

life just seems way too short to live ugly.

i am personally choosing being on the clothesline in the waning summer sun. billowing and breathing and giving thanks.

*****

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

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your brain. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

so another week goes by. and now there are 45 days left.

45 days to discern – really think through – your vote in this election-of-elections.

45 days to determine what is most important to you…not in a singular policy kind of way…but in an overarching sense of what you would like this country to look like in the future…not only for you…but for all who follow you.

responding to our cartoon about the insanity that is the maga platform, she wrote, “they do see and they don’t care. … it’s all about hate and control … hidden within the guise of old-fashioned values and going back to the good old days.”

and it clearly doesn’t matter to them how they get there – with truth or with lies – to the nirvana of their good old days – a nirvana of patriarchal, misogynistic, racist, xenophobic, extremist, nationalistic, bigoted values (to use the word values loosely and without the virtue of meaning).

we take turns ranting. sometimes we participate in each other’s rant. sometimes we are quiet. because, frankly, sometimes it is all pretty suffocating.

if i were to rant right here, this is what i would say:

be aware of what you linger on, for there are many distractions out there, veering you off the real issues at hand. be purposeful in your research and in your discernment. be wary of what you believe, what you purport, what you amplify that you believe in. be mindful of the words you choose, for once they are in the air they are there for all time. be selfless as you consider the future of this country’s democracy. think about the words of the declaration of independence, “we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” linger on the words all and equal, for regardless of your race, gender, orientation, economic privilege or lack, religion, you are the same as the next person..no more, no less. remember you are in control of your vote and, as a citizen of this nation, it is incumbent upon you to vote clearheadedly and in good conscience. and, before you vote, in those moments before you take pen to paper, maybe recite these words, “e pluribus unum” – out of many, one. be vigilant of who you elevate to the highest position in our this-land-is-your-land-this-land-is-my-land.

in cris’ words, “don’t relinquish your brain at the door.”

there are 45 days before you cross the threshold of the door into the room where your pen will hit the paper. bring your brain – and your heart – with you.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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