reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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whole rest. [k.s. friday]

rest

two broken wrists.  there’s not much that can stop me, but two broken wrists has done it.

it is profound what you do in daily living with at least one hand.  really everything.  this is my fourth day on this hand-less journey and i know there’s a long road ahead.  i am not a good patient and the inability to perform the simplest of tasks has been world-stopping.  i had to teach david how to ‘properly’ wipe my mouth, put on girl jeans, comb out wet hair.  he has to hold my coffee cup (and yes, a wine glass or two) with the infamous sesame street ernie straw, feed me every bite, help me sit up from laying down, open doorknobs, pick up my cellphone so i can voice activate it, wipe my tears as i cry in frustration.  the list goes on and is only limited to your imagination.

i wanted to have a tiny window into my beautiful daughter’s world.  My Girl tells me lots of coaching and instructing stories from her high mountain snowboarding career, but i have never stepped on a snowboard.  i wanted to physically experience the board under my feet, even a tiny grasp of how she feels.  so we have planned for a long time to take a lesson and surprise her with our tale.

this week was wisconsin ski and snowboard week and for a mere $29 you could purchase lift tickets, rental equipment and a group lesson.  it seemed perfect.

and for an hour and twenty minutes it was.  a really difficult sport, we stood on boards and managed to learn the slightest of skills.  until that little girl on skis was in front of me downhill just a bit.  not really well-versed at turning and, clearly, less versed on stopping, i worked to avoid her.  the stop and the fall were simultaneous.  tailbone down i clearly put out my hands to help my fall, the first do-not-do-this rule.  instinct took over; reflexes prevailed.  that was step one in this two-broken-wrists tale, this whole rest.

four days ago i took for granted every little thing my hands (and arms) did for me.  i could play the piano at any given moment, grab a pencil and jot a lyric, readjust the bench, open the blinds and let the sun into the studio.  today the studio is dark, the piano quiet, the pencils waiting.

instead, moment by moment i am aware of every move i make, every single thing i need assistance with.  i work each day to gain one more tiny ability.  we have slowed down to a crawl and are abiding in each minute, one by one.  i appreciate david’s help beyond mere gratitude or words; his commitment to my every-single-movement is humbling.  our friends and family have reached out with offers of meals, company, words of encouragement and vast amounts of humor.  we are right here in this very moment.  presence defined.

i wonder about my piano.  i know that my right hand in a hard fiberglass cast is on hiatus.  i think that maybe my left hand, which is in a hard splint, might have a beensy chance at a few notes, regardless of the ensuing pain.  when i was 19 i broke three fingers on my left hand slammed in a steel church door.  they were splinted but i was fending for myself making a living for college as a musician and so i relentlessly started playing with those fingers anyway.  this too-early-in-the-healing-process-playing prevented full healing, so i am cautious now.  the piano is a part of my soul and so i honor the process of getting-back.

in the meanwhile, in the way that only the universe understands, after these last months, i seem to have needed a reminder of being loved and cared for, a reminder of attending to ‘now’ with no dreaded worry of ‘next’, a reminder of what’s truly important.

last night i held a fork.  it was pretty amazing.

oh, and – the little girl skied on, unaware.

read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

ks website header

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joy. [k.s. friday]

joy songbox

the video from My Girl made me out and out cry.  it was just a little hello, sent from around a firepit in the high mountains after a long day of working.  and it was perfect timing.  to see her face and hear her voice was pure joy.

we walked and walked and walked.  miles from millenium park’s christmas tree and skating rinks, past beautiful ornate displays of lights and simple twinkling white branches.  in a rare opportunity linking my arm through My Boy’s as we strolled, i was filled with joy.  the loudspeaker music and dancing lights of the lincoln park zoo just echoed my delight.

as adults, the holidays carry a different set of qualities than they did as when we were children.  much pressure, oftentimes grief, maybe a slippery slope feeling of never-doing-enough, some disappointment, a measure of jealousy or envy perhaps as others-with-family-all-in-town gather together in big festive celebrations.  for those of us who work on christmas eve and christmas day, there is a yet another added layer.

we walked through the woods yesterday looking for the right branch laying on the ground.  we don’t yet have a christmas tree up.  we have other little trees – i have collected small trees through the years – but no true christmas tree.  each year in these last years, we have chosen that “tree” carefully, always something we found, something re-purposed into a christmas tree, something that had meaning.  there was the christmas-tree-on-a-stick – a christmas-tree-misfit – we cut down on the tree farm, a piece of the tree that fell into our backyard narrowly avoiding the house, a branch that had snapped off of our beloved tree out front, a star suspended over a straight trunk wrapped in lights to tease The Boy.

this year i thought about just going to a lot and purchasing a tree, thinking maybe, in the midst of the ending of a really tough year for many,  that might put me into the holiday spirit.  but i just couldn’t bring myself to do that.  we figured that the answer would become obvious, as it has done in the past years.  and it did. watching My Boy, clearly proud of the decorations of the neighborhoods north-of-downtown, agree with us about how simple, beautiful and truly elegant the white branches were, made up my mind.

last night we put the first coat of white spray paint on the two sets of branches we brought home.  we’ll finish coating them with paint later today and wrap them in white lights.  we’ll gently place silver ornaments as we play christmas music in the background.  i will miss My Girl and My Boy like crazy.  i will yearn for my parents, my brother and sister-in-law and sister and brother-in-law and nieces and nephew and all their families, david’s parents and extended family.  it isn’t the christmas of christmas-past.

but there still is magic.  those moments of joy – when everything else ceases to exist and joy eclipses it all.

download JOY on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

milleniumparktree website box

JOY ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

 

 


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snow angels. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

snow angels copy

it wasn’t exactly a blizzard, but it was a great snowstorm.  it makes me wonder what would have happened if i had wished for something else….

every weekend My Girl drives back and forth across the high mountains.  she is a head coach for a snowboard team in aspen and instructs in telluride, so this four-and-a-half-hour-each-way-she’s-driving-where-there-are-no-guardrails-worry-zone for me is a necessity in her life.  i check the weather and implore her to stay in touch as she goes.  this last week, both of these towns and pretty much every town in-between had “winter storm warning” and THIS posted: avalanche warning copy

not exactly words that warm a momma’s heart.  but kirsten knows i am worried and, probably rolling her eyes, generously lets me know how things are as she goes.  she has good snow angels and i count on them.

i always say things like, “someday you’ll understand” to kirsten and craig, but i know that right now my mom-worrying might just be a burden to them.  i’m grateful they humor me, and i do know that someday they’ll understand.

when we were driving across the country in really bad weather, wendy had the ability to locate us and we were both really relieved for this.  checking in every so often, had something happened, at least she knew where-in-the-world we last were.  a good snow angel.  both The Girl and The Boy can locate me at any time too.  this is not an uncommon device used by families and i know that every mom has eternal gratitude for such a thing.

we took a walk in the freshly fallen snow.  It was very cold out and the wind was blowing, causing drifts across sidewalks and the waves to slam against the rocks on the lakefront.  i was glad not to be driving and my mind wandered back in time to other snowstorms….ones where my children bundled up and ran out to build snowforts and snowmen, ones where i was the one on the road and my sweet momma was the one worrying.  snowstorms when i went outside and played in the snow laughing with beloved old friends.

it had been kind of a long while since i’ve made a snow angel.  we got back from our walk downtown and were in front of our house.  i took david’s hand and we fell backwards into the snow.  i drew in my breath at the cold and laughed, my arms the wings of a snow angel.

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

bong trail, wisconsin website box copy

 

 


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no sides in climate. [merely a thought monday]

NoSides Climate copy

we

WE live here.  on this beautiful planet earth.  we have inherited it from those before us and we will pass it on to those who live beyond us.  it is our responsibility to leave it as-good-as or better than we received it.  (my sweet momma’s teaching…in all things.)

our

OUR.  responsibility.  we cannot just take; we must give back.  and, as in all things, the things we learn must be applied, even if it’s hard, even if it’s inconvenient, even if it costs us, even if it won’t directly benefit us but will, alas, benefit those beyond us; our work, our diligence, our values, our dedication, our respect will transcend us.

the first thing The Girl did the morning before she drove back to the high mountains was to put her personal stamp on her new vehicle IVY.  she planned carefully where to place the two stickers on the far back passenger side window.  Screen Shot 2018-12-10 at 10.11.11 AMthe POW sticker – protect our winters – a cause she believes in.  on their site, “Outdoor sports is a way for the public to understand the consequences of climate change, and what we stand to gain by stopping it, or lose by failing to.  We all need winter.” 

it’s bracing.  the changes OUR beloved planet is experiencing.  the changes in weather, the changes in resources, the changes, ultimately, in the way we will each live – all around the world. the questions of being able to grow ample food supply, have enough clean water, and sustain this – what is, by sheer comparison – tiny planet in the vastness of space.

i stood in the living room of the historic mining house My Girl lives in right in the middle of telluride, colorado and saw this poster on the wall.  each of the renters in this house, directly or indirectly, depends on the health of the outdoors in these high mountains for their livelihood.  who among us does not truly – when you trace all things back to their source – depend on the health of OUR environment?  NO SIDES IN CLIMATE.

everything we do or don’t do will affect this good earth.  who is it that said, “you don’t know what you have till you lose it”?  we take for granted that for which we should have the simplest and deepest of gratitude.

OUR earth.  were it not here, where would WE live?  how would SIDES matter?

read DAVID’S post this MERELY A THOUGHT MONDAY

dogga in snow website box

art sale december 2018 copy

click here for sale of david’s beautiful work

 

 


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sisu. [merely a thought monday]

sisu box

sisu.  perseverance.  fortitude.  stamina.  courage.  determination.  my grandmother mama dear used this finnish term all the time and passed it down to my sweet momma beaky who passed it down to me.  a philosophy of life, a mantra, “you gotta have sisu!” mama dear would say.  if up against the odds, if forging upstream, my sweet momma would say, “you gotta have sisu!”  and so it was without a second thought when it was time to name my own company, the independent recording label that has been sisu music productions for the last 23 years.  i can’t think of a better name for all the challenges that have risen – and continue to rise – as an independent artist.

any moment of fear, of uncertainty, brings me to draw on that sisu…digging in my heels and standing firmly in it.  it’s kind of a blind faith and has everything to do with that.  in the face of adversity, of the scales tilted not-in-your-favor, you just keep on.  in the face of fear…everyone has their thing…the thing that makes them afraid…the thing that makes them white-knuckled…you just keep on.   sisu.

i was flying back from telluride to denver a couple days ago – in a smaller plane.  there was a big strapping guy all dressed in camouflage who got on the plane before me.  he told the flight attendant he had been out in the middle of nowhere hunting (successfully) elk and mule deer.  he was a rough and tumble kind of guy and ended up seated just across the aisle from me.  when the plane hit turbulence, particularly over the front range, his face turned red and he looked over at me with a deer-in-the-headlights look and said, “i hate this part!!”  i started talking to him then, trying to ease his obvious fear, talking about the wind currents and the mountains…how i could see the airport…we are almost there…just a teeny bit further…wheels are going to touch down any minute….  he was gripping the lock on the little tray table and finally relaxed his grip and smiled.  everyone has their thing.

we can loan others the sisu we carry with us.  we can bank on the sisu we carry with us.  i often credit being-from-new-york for times i have just forged-ahead-anyway, but my sisu roots go way further back than that.

sisu.  i stood back from the edge of a deep deep canyon the other day, my beautiful daughter on another boulder a few hundred yards away.  i looked at the sky, the sunset playing over red rock.  thought about that very moment in time, this moment i was sharing with the part of my heart known as kirsten…this moment that wouldn’t be repeated.  and i heard the voice in my head, “you gotta have sisu.”  i stepped to the very edge of the canyon, stretched out my arms and laughed aloud.

moab edges with website

read DAVID’S thoughts on SISU

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not enough crayons. [chicken marsala monday]

therearen'tenoughcrayons WITH EYES jpeg copy

as i am writing this, The Girl just texted to say she was driving off the pass and that she and lumi-dog had finished their hike in the back-country.  earlier she had texted (as is safe practice for all back-country activity) to let someone know both that she was going to be out of cell service, off the grid, in the high mountains on a hike and where she intended her hike to take her.  she is a conscientious hiker and boarder and i can’t tell you how much i appreciate that.  and so, early early this morning, i looked up the hike she was taking.

the #1 hike in the san juans (according to my trail app) it was taking her on a giant elevation gain and to a stunning lake, the color of which i couldn’t describe by the picture, and evidently was un-grasp-able even by the people reviewing the hike.  this was a place incapable of being captured by even a crayola 64-box.

that is what i love about our world.  countless places we couldn’t begin to capture with crayons.  no matter how many we could get our hands on.

the places that take our breath away.  the places that give us breath.

if you'd like to see more CHICKEN...

to see THERE AREN’T ENOUGH CRAYONS products, click on box above and scroll down page to see various products

read DAVID’S thoughts on this CHICKEN NUGGET

CHICKEN MARSALA MONDAY – ON OUR SITE

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there aren’t enough crayons in the world to capture it all ©️ 2016 david robinson & kerri sherwood