reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

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too big. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

it’s sunday morning as i write this. with our coffee and the sunrise, we started our morning watching an rei video called “the life we have”, an intensely moving documentary that follows rob shaver, the subtitle of which reads, “mortality, movement and the richness of being alive.” too big.

by the end we were both crying. tears streaming down our faces. sniffly noses. the tightness in your chest when you are trying hard not to just out and out sob.

and then we just sat – holding tightly onto each other under our quilt and comforters – cold morning air coming in the window, sun streaming in the other side. we were quiet.

we stirred from our stillness. x’ed out of that youtube. and stared at the screen that presented many, many options of other videos to watch, most of which had something to do with the current administration – which – in absolutely no way at all – could ever begin to demonstrate the respect for life that this video we had just viewed did. seeing the faces of those involved in this vileness made me sick to my stomach – again. the juxtaposition was well beyond striking. it was monumental.

we sat in wisconsin’s oldest operating theatre – the 1915 downer in milwaukee – the scent of popcorn wafting everywhere. it was our first time to this theatre, but i daresay not our last.

we were there to see the documentary GASLIT, a movie – directed by katie camosy -shining the light on how the pervertedly-swollen oil and gas industry “impacts the land, air, water and human lives.” it is practically too big to write about.

jane fonda – one of the producers as well as activist and narrator – says, “it’s about injustice, pollution, and the destruction of entire communities.” the destruction and profiteering by those hoarding big-money – the gluttonous – is unconscionable. we were so sickened – so outraged – when the movie was over we couldn’t move for minutes. out of body, feeling like we were living in surreal times, we struggled our way out of the theatre and walked down the street, catching our breath, trying – again – not to cry.

sacrifice zones are areas of this country – the united states of america – where big money has decided that the people, the town, their homes – all of it – are worthy of being sacrificed. big money – like this current administration cheerleading for more fossil fuels, eliminating clean energy projects, drilling, drilling, drilling and decimating natural lands – including parklands – has decided that they can decide where people – PEOPLE – are not worth it…are disposable…that they can be sacrificed in order to benefit the extraction and production of dirty carcinogenic fuels and petrochemicals. toxic communities, cancer alleys, not fit for habitation, everything that is alive affected. they are disgracefully and deliberately created. activists describe these places as “the wrong complexion for protection”. what in the absolute hell?! this is the united states of america and this is a priority of its current administration…one of many revolting atrocities in their sick cauldron of intention. it is sinister wickedness.

we backed away from the youtube panel of choices this morning. the faces of such self-consumed, twisted corruption were just too much for us.

i spun the outer band of the fidget spinner ring we got at peacetree. it brought me back to the words of rob shaver, the life of a man who is just trying to live: “it’s literally just a choice daily. to live deeply and thoroughly and with beautiful effort. not for results, not for money or fame or lifestyle, but for the richness of being alive.”

that there is what the current leadership of this country – this place that purports to care about the life, liberty and pursuit of happiness of all its people – every last freaking person – will never ever get.

ever.

and yet, that leadership – lacking the wisdom that gratitude for sheer life bestows upon those who choose to be grateful – dares to decide who can be sacrificed.

the sickest of demented, indeed.

i told you it was too big to write about.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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what the hell are we doing? [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

the drive was going to be about 9-10 hours or so. we knew that the front end would be belabored by traffic – taking hours to get through the city, but, once on the interstate, figured we’d be cruising. ahh….not the best of figuring.

there was the hour we spent at the delaware water gap…not outside enjoying the views and a trail…but inside big red, crawling our way out of new jersey into pennsylvania.

then the hour plus we spent just lingering – barely moving – through this one section of i80 in the very wide state of PA – where the department of transportation had decided that – for miles – it would be necessary to have cones blocking a lane so that eventually – miles later – they could do roadwork. now, i am all for safety for the workers on these roads, but cones for miles with no indication of any work is a tad bit frustrating.

so, then, finally, we were moving along. we had a whole bunch more hours to go – about 4-5 when we stopped about 70 miles from the ohio border to get gas and have a little pit stop. we could see the sky getting darker to the west and thought we’d get ahead of the necessities.

and then we got our first tornado warning. warning, not watch.

d pumped gas while i checked the weather radar. it looked ugly to our west and the prediction was for extended storms, hail, extreme wind and, yes, perhaps a tornado or two.

we pulled next to the station and sat while the first of the storms came through, pummeling us with torrential rain and wind. we were grateful we weren’t driving in it.

pulling up the radar again, i looked at some points along our journey to that night’s airbnb. things did not look good for the rest of the evening. it was already close to 5, we had been driving for 9 hours by then and we still had hours to go – through the weather mess on our app. we didn’t quite know what to do.

i looked around as we sat there in that lot. to my left – high on a hill next to us – sat what looked like either a hotel or a condo building which, given the exit we had taken, didn’t seem likely. pulling up google maps, i found out it was, indeed, a hotel.

i pulled up their website.

just to check.

because we were already tired and the road ahead looked pretty scary and long.

about a half hour later we checked into the hotel, forfeiting our airbnb – erring on the side of safety. the couple behind us in line at the front desk – about our age – were doing the same thing, forgoing their reservations several hours down the road.

many times over that night and the next day we marveled at the serendipity of the hotel-on-the-hill location next to us and were grateful for it and for our ponderous decision.

the dawning morning fog the next day lifted before we started driving and there was no indication of storm until we were closer to home. we had tornado watches for the last couple hours while we were driving, which made us jittery – well, it definitely made me jittery.

the tornado sirens went off when we got home.

because, well, climate change is real. global warming is real. weather events are becoming extreme as a result of humans’ lack of care about greenhouse gases, fossil fuels and pollutants in the air, water cycles. ridiculously hot heatwaves, intense droughts, insane amounts of precipitation and flooding, supersized hail, coastal storm surges, damaging winds, severe widespread wildfires, and destructive tornadoes caused by warmer, more humid air. this could potentially all be catastrophic, yet the current administration is ignoring all the signs of peril to our earth, gluttonous greed intentionally perpetuating the damage.

a few days later, in our backyard and starting to prepare the gardens for spring, we looked up.

the clouds – mammous and with these rope-like threads – were suddenly overhead. the same kind of clouds as the night we arrived home. we both sighed, suddenly nervous about what front was coming.

there have been plenty of scary looking clouds. there have been plenty of emergencies across our land. there has been plenty of devastation. there have been plenty of catastrophes due to weather events.

“the united nations intergovernmental panel on climate change’s sixth assessment report in 2021 (five years ago!!!) noted that the human-caused rise in greenhouse gases increased the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events worldwide.”

you gotta wonder when those “in charge” might care.

i read a quote while perusing around the issues of this extreme weather, climate change, this earth. it seems sadly apropos: “unfortunately for some of those people, it won’t hit home for them until it really hits home for them.”

is that what we are waiting for?

what the hell are we doing?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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protect it. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

she said (words to the effect), “he’s worried that with all the politics and the chaos and everything else that is happening, fewer are paying attention to climate change.”

breck is growing by leaps and bounds, it seems. the top leaves are taller than the garage peak. it is both astounding and delightful, this little aspen tree.

because it has been an extraordinarily hot summer, i have watered breck consistently. last year the heat took a toll on breck and you could see it on stressed leaves so – between that and watching martijn watering his young trees on the youtube of his idyllic life in the mountains of italy – i decided it would be best to tend it more. breck has responded with glorious growth, rich verdant leafing, a bark that is appearing more white, quaking in every breeze, soaking up the attention.

and climate change continues.

because we are being expected to play along with the distraction games going on in our nation, our focus is being whipped from one manufactured disaster to another, with an attempt to keep our attention off all things horrific. because the current administration is gutting all things organic, all things scientific, all things that point to the intensified global warming that is caused by us humans – we will reap what we have sown and the already apocalyptic weather events will worsen. the damage is being done as we ping-pong back and forth between watching the gilding of the oval and the normalization of insane rhetoric, untruths of propaganda, a dying justice system, cruelty on the streets.

and climate change continues.

breck – in our backyard – dances when i water it with the watering wand. i can see it sigh with relief. just like, in particular, the basil and the sweet potato vine. the wilty jalapeño leaves immediately perk up, the cilantro ceases reclining in its pot. it doesn’t take much.

even as we love being right here – sharing space in our backyard with breck – we miss being out in the mountains. we feel at home there and yearn for a time to return. we know they will be there when we have a chance to make the trip.

we do, however, know that there is much happening out there. it is hotter, there are more wildfires and, hence, more mudslides. there is increased smoke at elevation, there is drought, there is risk for all wildlife and ecosystems. water availability is significantly stressed and pestilence is becoming more severe. erosion is accelerating with big-money-mongering efforts at more timber harvesting and various mining operations. the landscape is changing and we – as a species – are at fault.

meanwhile, the oval office and the colonnade are being tchotchked with gold – everywhere. the disrespect – of the people’s house, the people’s land, the people’s country, the people – is rampant.

there’s no reason to gild the lily of sea-to-shining-sea-america, the beautiful. it needs no ladening of gold, no tchotchkying of adornments. there is every single reason to protect it.

i’m pretty sure our mother earth would soak up the attention.

*****

WATERSHED © 2004 kerri sherwood

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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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the waxing moon. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

“the beauty of the earth is a constant play of light and dark, visible and invisible.” (beauty – john o’donohue)

i prefer to think of it as waxing, not waning. growing in illumination, not heading toward darkness. the moon on our ceiling just above the crown molding shows up from time to time. the conditions need be right, the lighting need be perfect. and then it’s there, waiting to be noticed. i ran for my camera the first time i noticed it, afraid the shadow-and-light interplay would quickly disappear.

like everything else around us – waiting to be noticed – we are always in choice about noticing or not. we can take the time or not. we can nuance our time to scurry past or we can slow down, just a little, to see.

i recently saw an article about spain, a country that embraces the siesta, a time of rest within the day. there is consideration there to move to a four-day work week in an effort to balance work and life. it is hard to imagine that there is much more important than paying attention to that balance. what else is living? why are we rushing through it?

i really love to take photographs. our hikes in the woods and walks in the ‘hood and time-just-being-time are punctuated with my stopping-stopping-stopping to grab a photo here or there. some things are just blatantly beautiful, visible and full of light. they need not beg to be captured on film. others are not so obvious. they are not so visible, darker, perhaps even invisible, courting imagination. on the trail they disappear silently behind the woods-models, the fashionable haute couture of the forest. instead, they are quiet and steadfast. they have a certain je ne sais quoi that cannot be easily named. and they are indeed beautiful.

on the trail, the tiniest pink petals rising from the decayed leaves, the green-and-green variegated leaves tucked behind the flowering shrub, the fallen tree – home to symbiotic white rot fungi – in and amongst the stately, the healthy. the thistles, dried and browned wildflowers, inosculated trees sharing soil, underbrush, like understudies, taking their usual back seat to the crowns of the woodland.

in our daily routine, the way the spring rain forms a heart-puddle on the patio, the way the snow piles on the wrought-iron table, the way rays through the miniblinds shadow the wall, the way barney ages in the backyard, the way wine glasses clinking catch the light, the way the quilt gathers the morning sun, and the way the light in the living room gifts us a waxing moon.

the balance of the obviously beautiful with the less-obviously, less-definitively beautiful.

we take a bit of time as we can – we slow down just a little as we are able – to make sure that we notice the play of light and dark, visible and invisible.

we look around us, through waxing and waning, standing in the light and the dark. to make sure we notice all the beauty of the earth.

*****

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