reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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one giant meadow. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

we have a meadow in our basement. it’s tucked in the northwest corner. indigenous wildflowers, stacked in boxes, cardboard containers of native blooms.

the oeuvre of decades, shrink-wrapped, flowers from seeds of thought-lyrics, of melodic gestures, of teasing harmonies, of simple evocative lines.

waiting, impossibly, to return to a time of compact discs. waiting, impossibly, for the invasives of streaming to get under control, to support independent artists rather than undermine their success, their ability for forward-movement.

the meadow sometimes beckons – like a soft wind through tall grasses – waving to me, begging me to step into the bramble and thick vegetation. like most good meadows, there is no clear path. you simply must walk in and turn – 360° – looking around, stunned by all the wild – flowers and weeds, both.

the broadcast music inc royalty check arrived. it was for $60.72. though it’s likely a few hundred thousand, i didn’t add up all the counts (listens). but one piece caught my attention. its play on youtube alone totalled 15,212 counts of this piece. my total royalties for this: $1.21. (for perspective on this: even if only 5000 people downloaded this piece of music for 99 cents and listened to it as many times as they wished, it would bring in approx $3465 (there are iTunes fees) instead of $1.21. a stunning difference.)

and we have another meadow in the basement. the canvases of bloomed paintings stack against the west wall; the easel stands in the northwest corner. the digital age of download and print has entered the art world of hanging wire and levels.

canvases, paint, jewelcases, polycarbonate plastic, discography – our wildflowers in the basement. the meadows are cultivated in fields of artistry, of color, of sound, of words and notes and splashes.

robust meadows self-seed. as do artists. we create despite roadblocks, despite the undervaluing of our work, despite the stacks of antique-store-someday-bound cds and canvas. despite it all.

but just like meadows need help – to more than just exist – to eradicate the invasive species, to grow, to prosper, to thrive – so do artists.

at long last – and truly for reasons of existence – we are contemplating a patreon account – a subscription donation platform to help support artists to continue to do the work you value, the work that has moved you, the work you turn to – as we gratefully acknowledge those of you who have contributed to our buymeacoffee tip jar. this simply means a monthly donation – as low as $2/month – that helps to make up the difference that the world has thrust upon artists. some readers may consider this timely, an avenue through which they may participate. some readers may consider this self-serving. either way, we are interested in your thoughts. feel free to email us: kerrianddavid1111@gmail.com. and watch for this – a patreon – one of these days.

we gaze over at the basement-meadows and ponder what is in our hearts, what is left for us to do, what is ours to do. we are each true to our work and, in the spirit of the fault in our stars, we know that we have – indeed – done good work if we have touched even one person along the way.

“do the best you can until you know better. then, when you know better, do better.” (maya angelou)

it’s all a journey in one giant meadow. and the difference between hardly existing and thriving.

*****

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

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for right now. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

“the sun shines not on us but in us. the rivers flow not past, but through us. thrilling, tingling, vibrating every fiber and cell of the substance of our bodies, making them glide and sing. the trees wave and the flowers bloom in our bodies as well as our souls, and every bird song, wind song, and tremendous storm song of the rocks in the heart of the mountains is our song, our very own, and sings our love.” (john muir)

there have been moments – holy and glorious moments – when i remember that i am, yes, one with nature. i am no more or less a part of the whole than the heart-leaf on the side of the trail, no more or less a part of the whole than the rocks on the beach, no more or less a part of the whole than the cloud as it floats by. and i remember that in my tiny-ness – within the vastness – i could just as easily have been the energy of the leaf or the rock or the cloud.

“how will you spend your time?” asked the thru-hiker at the end of the trail. mary oliver asks the same, “what will you do with your one precious life?”

i realize – in these sacred and suspended moments when i can feel the threads of soul connect me to the trees, to the living plants, to the creatures – that i am, perhaps, spending too much time in worry.

i am alive. and, for right now, that is enough.

*****

GRACE from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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love, love, love. [merely-a-thought monday]

when i was in sunday school – decades ago – we sang a song with these lyrics: “love, love, love. that’s what it’s all about. cause god loves us, we love each other. mother, father, sister, brother. everybody sing and shout. cause that’s what it’s all about. it’s about love, love, love. it’s about love, love, love.”

and then, somewhere along the way, it seems that the rules changed. and suddenly, it wasn’t all about love. it – on the contrary – became about the parameters put on love. it became about who people identify as and who people love. it became about valuing only male-female love. it became about quashing people’s gender identification. it became about ancient, close-minded, patriarchal interpretations. it became about bigotry. and the sunday school song takes on a different meaning.

but we know that nothing immensely beautiful, nothing meaningful or of import has come from limitations. it is not the ostrich with its head in the sand who can feel the dawn of a new day on its face. it is not the people who do no true research, who do not ask questions, who do not ponder the possible; these same folks who, if they instead would have respectful consideration of others, could find that we all can be spokes-living-better-together.

one of the things i really loved about my sweet momma was her willingness – her desire – to learn new things. even in her nineties, she tried to stay current, to stay informed. if she didn’t understand something, she’d ask questions or she’d look it up. she stayed open, non-judgemental. she hoped for happiness, love, freedom, peace for everyone – despite their race, ethnicity, gender identity, religion, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status. she did not make broad sweeping statements dissing any group of people. she held onto her belief that everyone deserves “to thine own self be true”. i’m guessing she would agree with ruth bader ginsburg, “we will all profit from a more diverse, inclusive society, understanding, accommodating, even celebrating our differences, while pulling together for the common good.”

the day my beloved son came out to me, i rejoiced in his freedom. all i really wanted for him – that day and every day since – was to love and be loved by his partner, working together with mutual respect, loyalty, understanding, generosity, admiration, affection, support. it is the same for my beloved daughter in her love relationships. i merely birthed them and then, in the briefest time that flew by, they became adults, out in the world. and with them, they took the knowledge that they had freedom to be who they are, knowing – without a doubt – i love them.

i can’t imagine poking at a group of people – including, and particularly, an all-embracing LGBTQIA+ community of beautiful people. lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, intersex, asexual: their individual and precious lives are not mine to live, nor mine to decide, nor mine to undermine.

we are the same. remember the sunday school song? or are there limitations to these lyrics? in what faith is love not love?

we purchased a new yard sign. half of the proceeds go to PRIDE.

*****

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

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TLC. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

so right now we have harvested four tomatoes. i know that four tomatoes does not a stockpot of marinara sauce make. but these four tomatoes count and later today we will place them on a special plate and have them with our lunch, delicious-homegrown-bite by delicious-homegrown-bite.

our basil and flat-leaf oregano and rosemary have gone to town and are a delight to use in recipes. our mint insists on flowering and is kind of spindly. (yes, yes, i know the flowering part sort of causes this, but no amount of cutting back seems to help.) and our tomato plant – well, despite our best efforts at loving this little potting stand garden to fruition, it’s eking out very few tomatoes. that’s ok. we still are in awe of the whole process, and watch, in utter happiness, as our little garden grows.

there’s a guy on youtube who is hiking the colorado trail. more than once we have heard his mantra: what goes around, comes around. he is in the practice of doing good deeds for others, on the trail and off. and he recognizes each time someone does something for him, or the universe tilts in his favor. i’m betting he would love our little garden too. not necessarily for its tomato and herb yield, but because of the tender loving care we are putting into it and the joy it is bringing us.

i’m thinking that’s true of most things you tenderly and lovingly care for.

it’s not the marinara sauce that matters.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com

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in the turning. [d.r. thursday]

we passed the stand of coneflowers – so beautiful in waning as summer wanes – the passage of time barely a whisper, yet it is august and a new season will soon be upon us. the side of the trail – the underbrush – told stories of summer’s heat, of the successful eradication of invasives, of new growth, of the turning – always the turning.

we walked back to where we had parked big red, this old truck that has now passed through twenty-five years of turning. barely seventy-thousand miles on its odometer, it seems happy to be driven, to have adventures, to be out and about.

we have had big red for the last four years since columbus gifted it to us. unable to drive any longer, he passed it to david and we promised to care for it as he had. every single time we have driven it, we have wondered why the rattle…loud rattle…from both sides of the truck. we determined it was the running boards. the bolts were tight but the metal steps shook and rattled, nonetheless.

so, on this day of waning time and everyone and everything getting older, we decided to bring it somewhere to see if we could possibly make a difference in the ridiculously loud sound and jarring shake the running boards were causing. we don’t know what put us over the edge this particular day. we wondered how columbus put up with this for the first 60,000 miles. for me, in particular, anything that has any kind of rhythm – and then is juxtaposed with a different rhythm close by – say, on the other side of the vehicle – simultaneously(!) – makes me crazy. it’s torture! let’s just say it interrupted the ride and ford’s slogan “go further” sounded less and less appealing. i mean, we are “ford tough” but c’mon…!

we googled who to take it to. picked a shop. and drove to it, a tiny bit fearful of the price tag of this fix. particularly right now. we knew we could get an estimate and walk away, if need be. what’s a little rattle for a little longer?

the guys at line-x took maybe 75 seconds to decide what to do and scheduled us for later in the week. merely thirty minutes after they began to install a steel anchor bar on each running board, our problem had disappeared.

because we have hyped-up sound and muscle memory – reinforced by four years of sound and bouncing, we could both easily imagine the noise and the jarring we were now missing. big red drove smoothly down the street, still driving like a big old ford f150 – in a big ole truck kind of way – but minus the runningboard imax symphony.

surprisingly, it was an easier and less costly fix than we had imagined.

i suppose as we watch other things around us age and wane – our house, littlebabyscion, our fridge, our stove, this very laptop, my iphone, our bodies (ouch!) – this would be a good lesson to remember.

no less beautiful, no less a coneflower, the turning just requires a little care.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

EMBRACED NOW acrylic 48″ X 36″

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what i need. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

i am a homebody. i truly love home.

but – juxtaposed on the same life-wave-riding surfboard – i love to get away. i love roadtrips and adventure, exploring backroads, immersing in new places. though i am fed noticing the extraordinary in the familiar, i thrive on images of the unfamiliar. more than once i have cried entering a canyon or at mountain-range first glimpse or surrounded by the scent of a lodgepole pine forest or the quiet of an empty trail or the quaking of aspen leaves.

so i yearn for these places – the ones we have been to and have loved and the ones we dream about.

i’m not high-maintenance when it comes to vacations. i’m not a resort-type or a cruise-type, not a disney-type or an amusement-park-type. i don’t need all-inclusive or my bed turned-down. i don’t need all-you-can-eat-any-time-of-day-or-night. i don’t need fancy or plush or luxurious. i definitely don’t need contrived.

it’s pretty simple. what i do need – is a little or big getaway. short distance, long distance. time to leave, see new things, experience new places, feel the sun from a different latitude or longitude. and then time to go home and feel the hygge that is ever-present back here, the moments that go by perhaps a little underappreciated, to feel the here and now without regret or longing, a chance to revive my homebody-ness.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com


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fly. [k.s. friday]

the seagull looked at me furtively, side-eyed. he acted like i just wasn’t there, stepping along the harbor channel wall at his own pace, seemingly not too nervous about my presence.

writing, i’m holding my weathered copy of jonathan livingston seagull in my hand. jonathan thrived. he left the traditional flock of gulls so that he could fly, soaring higher than he had ever soared. he was an outlier but was kind and loving, generous with the skills he learned.

i’m thinking he was as much an artist as those of us who are artists.

ever since, well, forever, i have had a thing about seagulls. i have a seagull collection in a box in the basement. in the 70s, it was a popular tchotchke – a plaster or wood base that looked like a piling or rocks or shoreline with a thin metal piece atop which was a seagull. sold in every beachfront town, i was – back then – a willing buyer. i had seagulls everywhere in my room. they represented the beach for me – my winter/spring/summer/fall sanctuary. and then i read richard bach’s book. and i was hooked. it resonated with me back then, this story of breaking away, hopefulness, dreaming, accomplishing. i was 18 and i was a jonathan-livingston-seagull.

my soaring seagull days ended abruptly at 19.

but in these days now – as i walk the lake michigan beach or hear the gulls as they fly overhead our house – i am reminded. the caw of the gull is reassuring and, as i gaze up watching them swoop and soar, i feel vestiges of the surf – the sound and the ocean from long ago. tide out. tide in.

i walked along the channel and, in parallel lines, the gull started to step along the wall. and then he stopped, put both feet firmly on the cement.

and, still looking at me sideways, whispered, “don’t forget you know how to fly.”

*****

TAKE FLIGHT ©️ 1997 & 2000 kerri sherwood

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sip and feast wisdom. [merely-a-thought monday]

of course i loved them right away. they are from long island. i’m from long island. it’s simple. my people!

we have watched – many – sipandfeast youtube videos. jim and tara have brilliantly put together a life all about cooking. splendid cooking. legacy and contemporary recipes. italian-american and, as they say, new york-inspired food. now, what’s not to love about new york-inspired food?!! they make me long to be back there.

i was perusing instagram the other evening and there they were…making cocktails. because the drinks looked both lovely and refreshing on a hot summer’s night – and because they each had a sprig of mint in them – i watched. of cawwwwse!

the camera panned to tara, as she was garnishing the drinks. mint in her hand, she slapped it gently against the glass saying, “give those mint leaves a little bit of a whack to release their oil” and then added it to the drinks. simple, practical wisdom.

all of life fell into place.

just a few days earlier in the week – during dinner on our deck with 20 – i had added mint from our potting stand to our ice waters. i was curious that i didn’t really taste the mint, though there was a considerable sized leaf in my glass.

but…i hadn’t whacked it.

now i understand.

funny how that just seems to apply to – well – everything.

a little gentle whack.

sometimes, it just propels us forward a tiny bit. sometimes, it stops the whirling thoughts tornado-ing in our minds. sometimes, it nudges the spinning plates – all spread out on the horizon plane – and lines them up so that we can get to them one by one, lined up instead of spread out. sometimes it unlodges the thought bubble, bursting it into a shower of incandescent, bright creating. sometimes, it infuses a little courage, a little bravery, a little chutzpah.

and sometimes it simply releases the oil.

tara and jim!! sip and feast!! thank you!!

*****

LONGING from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

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only for new customers. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

i suppose cartoons are supposed to be mostly funny, though sardonic probably fits the bill too. this might be funny if it weren’t true.

a friend of mine texted a couple days ago to tell me she had bought a peach. one peach. it was $1.02 and it was not even ripe yet.

we bought our favorite jam at the least expensive grocery store. bonne maman mixed berry. it was $5.99.

one 28 ounce can of hunts crushed tomatoes is now $2.49. a minute ago it was $1.49.

20 said the vine-ripe tomato was $3.00. for one.

the guy at the meat counter picked up a steak. he looked at us and sighed, “how did this get so expensive?”. the little boy with him pushed closer to us and piped up, “have you heard of inflation?”

our gas and electric bill is on the budget plan. we are ridiculously frugal. we are cold in the winter and hot in the summer. it is $326/month.

our internet/cable/phone bill was $213 and seemed to be continually rising. in an attempt to pare down, i spent what seemed like half my life last week on the phone with them. it is nearly impossible to lower costs with this company. i have had their service the entire time i have lived in this house. 34 years.

were i to be a new customer, customer service said there would be many options from which i could choose. but – as a three-plus-decade customer – there are not. i can eliminate all my channels but 15 and save about $10. and what about my loyalty??

they transferred me to the retention department. i wonder why.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. ©️ 2023 kerrianddavid.com


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200%. [k.s. friday]

i own 200% of my original pieces of music, my original songs. 100% of that is the compositional copyright and the other 100% is the sound recording copyright. with the exception of one vocal song which i collab’ed on, and one song where i gave my dueting partner a percentage for a few lyrics he changed, i have solely written each piece.

i did not find myself near the bluebird cafe in nashville or any of the listening rooms in nyc or los angeles when i was writing any of these albums. by the time i was writing for albums i would be recording, i was a mom of two small children, one a tiny toddler. my writing took place in the midst of potty-training and reading stacks of books, pbj’s and grilled cheese with the crust cut off. my growing-up piano was the instrument on which i wrote my first three albums, surrounded by barbies and matchbox cars, vhs tapes of barney and disney movies. i wrote with children on the bench, children under the bench, children on my lap.

in my most recent composing, a bit ago now, i still found myself writing this way…with many plates spinning and in short spurts of dedicated time. it was a practice i honed through the years and it served me well, this multi-tasking.

vocal song lyrics are found on scraps of paper, on pa-pads, on napkins, with letter names of notes and jotted rhythmic gestures next to the words. some of these took weeks of fine-tuning, changes and wordsmithing. others took ten minutes. total. slow dance is one of those.

the album as sure as the sun is one that celebrates life and love and relationship, in its many facets. after five instrumental albums (and another nine albums later) with the very best producer – also my arranger and a consummate musician – i worked with a nashville producer on this vocal full-length. in los angeles for some pre-recording meetings, we put the song same sweet love to pencil and paper, adding it to the lineup for asats production. it’s a totally different energy to collaborate on a song – to share the writing – and something i had little experience with. we both ended up singing on this song and we co-own it.

the very wide spectrum of love – and its impact, its mystery, its universally understoodness (and not-understoodness) – is one of the emotions to which songwriters gravitate. powerful and complex, there is no limit to reaching listeners, a strong connection the tie between music and emotions, a driving force.

i’ve read that a recent psychology of music study revealed that in every decade over the past six decades (since 1960), as much as 67% of all song lyrics were about romantic love. it’s not surprising.

when i do pick up pencil and paper again, looking at the line-up of songs already written for a potential next vocal album, i’d imagine that there may be some editing. i’d imagine that the arvo pärt note-smith will step into the instrumentals. i’d imagine that some lyrics will change in the line-up, maybe a melodic gesture or two, maybe the harmonic structure. i’d imagine that – maybe – in the review of these last years there might be a few new pieces, maybe a whole album’s worth of songs or instrumentals that muster their way past my editing delete-r.

i’d guess that there might be songs about transition, about relevance, about aging, about simplicity. i’d guess that there might be songs about hard decisions, hard times, hard losses. i’d guess that there might be songs about love, in all the corners of one’s life.

and i’d guess i’ll own 200%, back in my studio, comfortable writing alone.

*****

SLOW DANCE from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood

SAME SWEET LOVE from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2022 kerri sherwood PLEASE NOTE: this song and this album are not jazz nor does rumblefish own any part of the copyright associated with this album.

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