reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


Leave a comment

sigh now. held in grace: pray now. [d.r. thursday]

PrayNow framed copy

“a state of detente”

i just read these words and stopped and re-read them.  for no specific reason – just because, i had taken the sarah ban breathnach book simple abundance out of the old wooden north carolina cabinet on the other side of the bed.  i flipped open to december 5, old cards and notes and newspaper clippings trying to slip out of the pages into which they were tucked.

the quote at the top of the page read, “most of the sighs we hear have been edited.” (stanislaw jerzy lec) and the meditation for this day was about sighing.  in fact, one of my favorite sentences reads, “women sigh so that we won’t scream.”  oh yes!  sarah continues, in rare exacting form about screaming, “there are several occasions in the course of any woman’s day when, without question, screaming is the appropriate response.”  sarah continues, in rare exacting form about sighs, and writes, “the act of sighing is a quiet vote of acceptance – of … moving on.  …letting it out.  letting it go….”  resilience.

sarah’s quiet wisdom touches a nerve:  “…sigh more… because … preferences, needs, wants, wills and demands to be dealt with, if there is to be a state of detente in the daily round.  more bending in order not to break…”  sisu.

i hadn’t thought about my sighing, but i know i do it.  the intake of breath and the slow exhale.  the thought i-have-no-idea-what-i-can-actually-do-about-this-anyway or the thought i-have-no-control-over-what-others-are-doing-or-thinking-or-feeling.  my own feeling of being astounded by someone or something.  the feeling of hurt.  the feeling of exasperation. fragility.  fortitude.  both.

the sigh.  a release.  from my heart into the hands of the universe.  isn’t that prayer too?

sigh now.  pray now.

visit HELD IN GRACE: PRAY NOW on david’s gallery site

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

k&dbw backs website box_

PRAY NOW ©️ 2010 david robinson


Leave a comment

the polar antonym of hip. [two artists tuesday]

polar antonym

i would like to start with synonyms:

Screen Shot 2019-11-11 at 10.42.56 AM

and now some antonyms:

Screen Shot 2019-11-11 at 10.43.29 AM

ick.  i would much rather be thought of as “swell” than “moth-eaten” or “chic” rather than “dowdy”.  good grief.  this is full of possibilities for an emotional breakdown, an inferiority complex in the mixing bowl.

in the show schitt’s creek, moira (the ever-present, loving and compassionate mom -NOT-) is speaking to the dad (equally as despicable in his own right.)  she states that to their children they are “the polar antonym of hip”.

hmm.  is this not a defining characteristic of parenthood?  we simply cannot be hip like them.  we are not them.  our children have different hip-ness than we do; our children are swell – and will be swell – in different ways than we have ever been.

i hardly think that the well-practiced eyerolls that my daughter has given me (in my view or from a thousand miles away) are because she thinks i am “modish”.  nor do i think the radio silence in-between my equally sweet love-professing text messages to my son are because he is thinking, “wow!  my mom is supercool!”  it is part of their job to think we are un-hip.  it is part of their journey in life to think we are “antediluvian”.

it IS the circle of life.  forget rafiki and mufasa and the lions and all.  the circle of life is the circle of hipness.  you are hip until you are no longer hip.  the line is foggy and you will not be notified until it is too late.  there is no expiration date or deadline for payment.  it just happens.  the crease between your eyebrows is deep and the waistline on your jeans slowly creeps up from your hips.  un-hip.

but such is life, as my sweet momma would say.  maybe it’s time to embrace being ‘the polar antonym of hip’.

i will not be whipping out the credit card to try and stay ahead of it.  ‘hip’ is untenable.  the silky threads trailing behind it escape grasp.  my boots and flipflops and black shirts will have to be my new ‘hip’.  my philosophy of less-is-more will have to be my new ‘hip’.  driving big red and littlebabyscionwithhundredsofthousandsofmiles will have to be my new ‘hip’.  listening to john denver and james taylor and carole king will have to be my new ‘hip’.  trying to keep being an honest artist in this world of machinated stuff will have to be my new ‘hip’.  and my jeans, sitting sort of on my hips, will have to be my new ‘hip’.

and i will hope-against-hope that maybe, just maybe, my children will think, “wow!  mom’s pretty hip.”  (only even the word ‘hip’ isn’t ‘hip’.)

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

kdkc feet website box

 


Leave a comment

happiness. freedom. courage. [merely-a-thought monday]

choir room calendar

my sweet poppo ended up in solitary confinement.  shot down over the ploesti oil fields in romania, he was a WWII prisoner of war and was being held in a prison camp in bulgaria.  he was courageously condemning the rat-eaten stale bread the prisoners were served, throwing it down, and he was hauled off to solitary confinement.  after months of imprisonment my dad, along with others, was able to escape this POW camp and find his way to freedom.  freedom.

each of us has our own freedom route, courage to summon up.  i look at both of my children as they make their way in this world.  they are courageously carving out their lives.  they are scrappy and they make sacrifices to seek happiness and freedom from fear of any kind.  my sweet poppo is cheering them on, both of them.

this calendar page hangs in the choir room.  the words seemed particularly timely to us, for many reasons, on many levels.  we looked up the person to which they were credited:  thucydides.  a studier of human nature, he:  “also has been called the father of the school of political realism, which views the political behavior of individuals and the subsequent outcomes of relations between states as ultimately mediated by, and constructed upon, the emotions of fear and self-interest.

we owe the freedom of our country to the veterans, like my sweet dad, who we honor today and to wise, thoughtful, inspired leaders of this country.  we have much to be grateful for.

and yet.  these savvy words of this ancient greek historian…”the emotions of fear and self-interest”.  this is relevant.

my poppo sat in a prison camp cell representing a country fighting against leaders filled with self-interest and the indiscriminate propagation of fear and atrocities upon innocent people.  his courage was buoyed by the courage of his fellow soldiers.  my father was staunchly determined to put others’ needs first.

i fear what is happening in our country today would sadden him; his response would be that our leaders are not acting out of courage, not out of a rallying call for equitable independence of all, but instead, out of bullying and grandiose self-serving.

and i believe my sweet poppo would throw down the rat-eaten stale philosophy of this current government.  with his great courage.  in true freedom.

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

heart in island sand website box

 

 


Leave a comment

you are beautiful. [merely-a-thought monday]

you are beautiful (chicago)

i remember heidi telling me about a conversation she was having on a mother-daughter weekend with her sweet mom, among other mothers and daughters.  they were sipping glasses of wine and started listing some of the things that were disconcerting to them about themselves.

we women (and men) have all done it.  we are sitting smack in the middle of a society that puts great value on appearance and youth, rather than the wrinkles of wisdom, the not-perfect-shape of having children and nurturing families, the heart-showing-on-our-face that has learned great empathy through the years, the grey hair of hard work and compassion.  and so we complain about the obvious changes we are going through.

i have looked in the mirror numerous times and thought,  “wait!  hold on!  that is NOT how i look!”  followed closely by, thinking, “it must be the lighting!  good grief, why do they use these dreadful florescent lights?  where are the soft white light bulbs?  what about indirect lighting?!  haven’t they invented soft focus mirrors yet??  umm,  i prefer my photos over-exposed, thankyouverymuch.”  we are hard on ourselves.  understatement.

instead of recognizing the beauty, the light in our eyes, the smile lines on our faces, the brow of concern, we list to the negative.  we do not look like the photoshopped version in the magazine; we cannot measure up to the three-or-four-decades-younger version of even ourselves.  life changes us.  why is it so easy to minimize ourselves and so difficult not to maximize what those changes have brought?

heidi’s mom interrupted the conversation.  she gently stopped the flowing list of self-deprecating complaints.  and she said, “you will never be more beautiful than you are right now.”

we passed this spray-painted graffiti in chicago.  i grabbed the phone out of my purse and tried to quickly capture it.  my finger blurred part of the image and i ruminated after on how i had ruined the photo.  and then i realized that no, indeed i had not ruined it.  for that blurry flaw in the photo would remind me (much better than were it not to be there) that we were walking fast down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, trying to capture the photo inbetween lots of traffic, laughing and excitedly on our way to see The Boy.  that blurred sixth of the photo – a photo that was not perfect –  would remind me of that day, imprinting in my life right then, the reminder timely and empowering.

you are beautiful.  right now.

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

onthedeckstepsWI website box

 


Leave a comment

waiting. [d.r. thursday]

Yoga-Waiting and Knowing .jpg

“You must wait patiently, knowing that you’re waiting, and knowing what you’re waiting for. (carlos castaneda)

way back when, almost three decades ago, saltines were my meal of choice.  i was waiting for the birth of my first child and saltines were helping me wait – patiently.  i woke each day, wondering, wondering.  i knew that what i was waiting for would change my life forever, would give different meaning to being here on this good earth, would be a miracle of outstanding proportion.  it did change my life.  it did give different meaning to being here.  it was, and still is, a miracle of outstanding proportion.  my girl and my boy – both waited for, with all my heart.

most things in life require waiting.  some things require more patience than we can muster.  we balance impatience with the force of knowledge that we simply cannot change the time it will take.  it takes what it takes.  my sweet momma would say, “good things are worth waiting for.”  sometimes you need to tie a weight to your toe…to ground you from floating away in a cloud of impatience, to keep you in balance, keep you in grace, to help you wait.

this painting!

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

click here to view/purchase this painting WAITING AND KNOWING

close-up Arches with website box.jpg

WAITING AND KNOWING ©️ 2015 david robinson


Leave a comment

sweet ballet. [k.s. friday]

sweet ballet songbox.jpg

photo credit: kirsten

in sweet pink ballet shoes, they flitted across the stage, little girls in plié and arabesque, little frowns of concentration mixing with smiles as they moved into practiced positions.  sparkles of light played across the theatre, the spotlights catching the rhinestones and sequins on tutus, the treasured stuff of these little ballerinas.  in my mind’s eye i remember my own little girl, hair piled high on her head in a bun, grown-up makeup on her be-still-my-heart beautiful face, as she carefully performed her memorized dance to this piece of music.  a moment in time.  sweet ballet.

each saturday morning we would sit on the wooden floor of the ballet studio.  royanne, the world’s best ballet teacher, would transform these little girls from sneaker-wearing to ballerina in moments, patiently, with great care and a profound love of ballet, teaching and children.  the parents would gather in the back, a seeming group meeting with conversation that flowed easily, yet softly.  friendships began on that wooden floor in the back of the studio; friendships that have prevailed through all of life’s changes.  one of my very best friends, the person my big brother seemed to handpick for me as a brother to stand-in after he could no longer be on this earth, 20, sat on that wood floor those mornings.  you just never know where or when you are going to meet someone who will be in your life forever and ever.  sweet ballet.

after class ended we would go across the street to jack andrea’s.  the girls would order ice cream sundaes and make paper dolls out of straws and napkins.  my boy would order chicken or potato soup (the kind of soup race cars eat – another story) or english muffins with saltines and pickles on the side.  20 and i would order coffee and watch this amazing time of life dance, moment by moment.  sweet ballet.

purchase RELEASED FROM THE HEART cd or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

heart in sand website box

SWEET BALLET from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood


Leave a comment

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