reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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scattered. [k.s. friday]

scattered songbox copy

the lake is glistening out the window right now, diamonds in the sun on a sea awash in blues and teals.  we just listened to this track SCATTERED and i am taken back to when i composed and recorded this, a time i felt scattered.  yet, this is the right piece of music for today.

how we arrived together at this place at this time – all scattered puzzle pieces.  rearrange one piece and everything changes.  somehow, the pieces all fit, snug tabs and blanks forming a picture.

right now, coincidentally the album title, we are in a new time of life at a new place doing a new thing.  our job is to respectfully, mindfully, keenly watch.  we will listen and study and learn the branches of our little island, the unique challenges of the work here.  as we develop relationship with the island, the people, the places, our littlehouse, our work here, the scattered tabs and blanks will come together.  not without intention or purpose, not without dreaming or planning, not without knowledge or the wisdom of experience, not without experimentation or failure, but they will come together…as they will.  it just feels a bit scattered right now, as every jigsaw puzzle fresh out of the box.

purchase the album RIGHT NOW or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

schoolhouse beach website box

SCATTERED from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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this part of the journey. exclamation mark. [k.s. friday]

tpotj song box.jpg

today my sweet momma would be 98.

she was born in 1921 and saw everything change around her. she stood in a world that saw the great depression, world war II, telephones and cars, movies, televisions and news shows reporting on more wars than she could wrap her head around. her husband was missing in action and then a POW shot down over bulgaria, all while she was expecting a baby. she gave birth to their first child while my poppo was still a POW and stood in faith that he would return as that little girl died.

momma built a life with my dad, all the while navigating veteran-ptsd that hadn’t yet been labeled. but she figured it out. she held her ground, both supportive and snapping to action or to “words” as she would call arguments between them.

my sweet momma wore stockings and pumps “to business” and had housecoats with snaps, long flowing mumus and finally, at long last, blue jeans and keds for relaxing. momma drove a mean stick shift and, because they were a one-car family for the longest time, walked to the king kullen and dairy barn for groceries and milk. she turned her very green thumb over to my dad after he retired, likely to keep him out of her hair for a bit of time.

she volunteered as the girl scout president and in aarp alongside my dad. she loved wood and glass; she loved to paint with oils. she loved lists and calendars and math and writing and doing the laundry any time she was stressed. she wrote old-fashioned letters with pen and paper. she adored her word processor and then the computer and finally, her beloved iphone. anything to stay in touch. she texted, she called, she facebooked, she mistakenly took pictures of the ceiling and sent them on errant trips out to the ethers. momma loved to coffee sit and have english muffins or crumb cake or danish or chocolate chip cookies or pie. and she made extra homemade french fries every time she knew I was visiting so we could sit, drink iced tea, eat cold french fries and talk.

she didn’t let fear overtake her. she was strong in every way. she credited being from new york, but i credit just her – she just went with the flow and sort of ignored anything that got in the way, including any physical challenge that presented itself. two days after a double mastectomy at 93 she sat on the side of the hospital bed and, in good humor, sassed everyone around.

she loved that everyone called her beaky. and i mean everyone.

her journey was long, her experiences rich. she was an exclamation mark in life. she celebrated people and love and moments and I miss her.  so much.

but it is part of my journey to miss her.

each of us bring to our journey our own punctuation. sometimes i think i am an ellipsis, but i realize that applies to all of us. we go on…

if i got to choose what singular punctuation i would want to be, i would want to be an exclamation mark, just like my sweet momma. for this part of my journey. for every part of the journey.

download THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts on this K.S. FRIDAY

momma, d & k website box

THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1998, 2000 kerri sherwood


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it’s real life. [k.s. friday]

it's real life sandheart shadows songbox

lists.  we have lists of things to get done today, this weekend, next week.  so.much.to.do.  “…it’s not just romance, it’s not just spark…it’s not just passion, it’s not just flame…” (lyrics)

we are not alone.  real life requires lists.  and lots of hard work.  together.   we lean on each other for the challenges.  we hold each other through the really tough stuff.

we just came back from being on an island where we heard a story about the recent high school graduation.  there were three (3) graduating seniors.  (the school has about 72 students, k-12.)  most of the people on island went to this graduation.  it lasted two hours, with speeches and personally-chosen-songs played by the graduates and a recessional.  it is amazing to think about how many unrelated people watched this ceremony, taking time out of their lives to witness this very important moment in the lives of these young people. it takes a village to raise a child.  yes.

but everyone knows everyone there, indirectly if not directly. deb recommended to never say anything negative or derogatory about anyone because they are likely related or best friends to whom you are speaking. she added, and i agree, that “we should always live like that.”  there is a shirt in her sweet bookshop that already has my name on it and reads:  heart>hate

as we plan our lists and our calendar for this next crazy week, we can see, ever so clearly, that our own village is here to help us.  we lean on each of them for the challenges.  they hold us through the really tough stuff.  it does take a village.  it takes each other.  together.  that is the stuff of real life.

purchase the CD or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

feet on grass WI website box.jpg

IT’S REAL LIFE from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood


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dawn at crab meadow. [k.s. friday]

dawn at crab meadow songbox

it started in complete darkness.  i was on stage at the theatre on uw-parkside’s campus.  keith, an outstanding and brilliant theatre manager, had programmed lighting that simulated the sunrise, the passionate and increasingly vibrant awakening of the day. it was my release concert of this album – BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL.

i sent this photograph to crunch right after i took it in hilton head.  we both have photographs from decades ago that are almost identical to it…a fishing boat as it passes underneath the warming glow of the sun.  back in the day, the 70s, crunch and i went everywhere taking pictures.  we spent lots of time in his boat, lots of time on beaches.  it was a blissful time with our 35mm non-automatic cameras in hand.  never sure of how a photograph would look, well before the digital age, we took lots of extra film with us, anxious to see the results later.  although i can see the benefits of digital work now, the ease, the preview capacity, the chance to take-another-picture-because-this-one-didn’t-come-out-good, i also remember the mystery, the anticipatory waiting for the film to be developed and the fact that although not all photographs were perfect, it was sometimes the misses that were the jewels.

we watched the sun rise in hilton head every day.  the sky would brighten with hope, even on a cloudy morning.  the tide would answer, the shore birds would wake.  i held close knowing my grown children were sleeping under the same roof, right there.  and a new day started.

i spent many an early morning on crab meadow beach, sometimes having climbed the fence to get onto the sand, my treasured yashica in hand.  the dawn there gave me pause, invited reflection and centering, beckoned me with hope and dreams to come.

keith raised the sunrise-lights until the ‘sun’ was high in the sky, escalating as the music did.  and DAWN AT CRAB MEADOW was released.

download BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

heart in sand website box

DAWN AT CRAB MEADOW from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood


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baby steps. [k.s. friday]

BABYSTEPS songbox

i’m glad my sweet momma saved these, my first soft leather pre-stride-rite walking shoes.  they hang in my studio and are a literal reminder that everything is accomplished by first taking baby steps.  leaps are optional.  long jumps, ridiculous.

as we embark on some new adventures, i keep reminding myself of this.  regardless of age, the idea of learning new things can be daunting and exhilarating, both.  we step  with commitment and with a willingness to bend and be fluid like reeds in the wind.  we hold fast to past lessons and apply them generously where they fit and we recognize when new wisdom will serve us better.   we step confidently and tenderly.  both.

my beautiful niece chose BABY STEPS as the piece that started her wedding on the beach.  the wedding party all walked barefoot through the sand to this music as we witnessed and supported heather and brian starting their new journey, one baby step at a time.

it all starts with baby steps.  one tiny footfall at a time.  speed matters not.  it’s all forward motion.

purchase RIGHT NOW CD or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

boots onthe bay website

BABY STEPS from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

 

 


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blueprint for my soul. [k.s. friday]

bp box

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL was my second album.  it followed on the heels of RELEASED FROM THE HEART, just a short year later.  RFTH wasn’t my first recording.  back in the late 70’s i recorded three songs in ny, all vocal songs.  i toted those, to no avail, around nashville’s music row,  along with a few others that i had penned and recorded in the mid 80’s.  but things don’t always happen in our own timing, nor do they happen the exact way we envision them.  architects use pencils with erasers for a reason.

fast forward a few years.  well a decade, actually.  the story behind the story, which i told in my 19 years ago today post (written five years ago now) is a story of the blueprint…the one we can’t see.  we seek out what we think we want, we pray unceasingly for that thing we are hyper-focused on, we worry and wring our hands, trying to force IT to happen.  (ask us.  we can speak to this.)

but sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we are really seeking.  and sometimes unanswered prayers are a gift.  and sometimes worry will just beget more worry and anxiety will just make you miserable.

the blueprint, the design, the plan.  all with options.  all with freedom of choice.  mostly, all, thank goodness, with grace.  those pencils with erasers come in handy.

“sometimes people and things have an obvious fit with you.” (liner notes, track 2)

download BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

BootsWeddingBoots website box copy

BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

 

 


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take flight. [k.s. friday]

take flight songbox

i have a seagull collection.  much like my horse collection, my seagull collection is much bigger in my memory than in the actual bin-in-the-basement.  when i opened what i thought was a big stable of horse figurines, i was shocked to find that my i-packed-it-in-1972-according-to-the-newspapers-in-the-box brain had overestimated the numbers…by a lot.  my seagull collection, on the other hand, was packed a bit later – more like 1980 – and i had a (little bit) better memory about how many jonathan livingston seagulls i had collected through the years.

growing up on long island i loved seagulls.  never too far from the beach, they were everywhere, but i spent great periods of time beach-sitting winter/spring/summer/fall watching them swoop and holler, screeching at their scavenged finds.  richard bach created a whole seagull community metaphor and i fell right in.

i can still smell the wet sand, see the seaweed washed ashore on pebbles i collected even back then, feel the sun, even the winter sun, on my face.  it all made me breathe differently.  it all made me think and grow and dream.

john denver’s song the eagle and the hawk spoke to me back then.  his simple lyrics prompted me to let those dreams TAKE FLIGHT.

“And all of those who see me, and all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly.
Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops,
Sail o’er the canyons and up to the stars.
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future,
And all that we can be and not what we are”

purchase THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY CD or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

rhode island website box

TAKE FLIGHT from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997 & 2000 kerri sherwood