reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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new light. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

luminaria

it is a new day.  filled with new promise, new possibility, new adventure, new hope, new light.  no matter what, the light comes.  it cannot be snuffed out, for after every night there is day.  it is sure.

we look to the horizon and, like the most exquisite of tall-stemmed flowers, we lean toward the sun.  we grow.  we rest.

we know, intrinsically, that even in circumstance where our own light is dampened, when it is dark, when we feel extinguished, exhausted, profoundly saddened, the tiny light that flickers from deep within, from others, from sunrise, can reignite our zeal, rejuvenate us, restore us, bring us bravely back to day.

happy new day.  happy new year.  happy new decade.  happy new light.

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

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conked out. [two artists tuesday]

dogga babycat end of day

conked out.  it’s the end of the workday, the end of playtime, the end of the evening, the end of the month, the end of the year and they are conked out.  so are we.  with toys strewn about, they collapse on the floor, a wary eye on each other every so often, just making sure. but mostly, sleepy, eyes closed, soft sighs.

we feel the same way.  conked out.  it has been a year.  tomorrow we’ll search for some sage to burn on the first day of the new year, smudging room by room, letting the snuffed flame’s gentle smoke chase out the negative and allow new light in.

conked out.  it feels like a repeating theme…a basso ostinato…a foundation upon which we are all arriving at this last-day-of-the-year station.  exhaustion seems to be the grounding venn diagram of all those we have spoken with.  like lines of the composer john cage:  dissonant polyphony, indeterminate chance-filled melodies, questioning, shapeless and yet heading in some vexing conclusive direction.  2019.  confusing and atonal with a lack of rests, avant-garde, but in all the wrong ways.

as we approach the last minute of the last day of this year, we sneak a peek at the new year.  new beginnings.  we sigh. deeply.  looking ahead.

i glance at a small sign i have on the wall.  it is not without noticing the irony i read a quote from john cage, “begin anywhere.”  a good place to go from conked out.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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grace. [k.s. friday]

grace songbox

it’s a mystery.  grace.  it falls on us like morning dew, each and every day.  we rise, buoyant or troubled, joyous or grieving, in clarity or murky, in the light or in the dark.

and it is a new day.  beauty surrounds us.  even breathing.  there’s nothing we must do to receive it.  we are granted grace…unconditionally.  its simple and steadfast generosity – its rain – our gift.

we step into next, knowing we have yet another chance.

purchase the CD or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

ray of light WI website box

GRACE from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood


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the pink. [k.s. friday]

inasplitsecond song

there is a moment when the sky turns a delicious shade of pink as the sun sets in the western horizon.  each beyond-the-crayon-box-color doesn’t last long; they morph into the next color and then the next.  each second, as you watch, counts.

there is a moment when before-night turns into after-day.  crossing the pink.

“live in the present/grab onto this time/don’t look behind you/you gotta walk that thin line/of the future and the past/it’s all within your grasp/that second could come way too fast”

there is a moment – one that probably occurs multiple times a day – when you can choose how to react to things.  you can linger in the not-taking-it-personally-they-are-hurting-you-not-because-you-are-you-but-because-they-are-them zone or you can step over the line and bite back.  crossing the pink.  everyone in relationship recognizes this.  any relationship, be it spouse-spouse, significant others, parent-child, child-parent, colleagues, supervisor-employee, employee-supervisor, drivers stuck in traffic, customer-customer service rep, strangers in a long grocery line.  not biting back doesn’t render you powerless; instead, in the hardly-ever-easy not-taking-it-personally, it aids in your health and well-being.  you choose.  crossing the pink.

“you look in the mirror/today’s world stares back”

there is a moment – a split second – when you stand still and see all that was behind, all that is here and now.  it is impossible to see all that is possible, for surely if you were back many pink crossings ago you would not have imagined the now of now.

and so, this split second should tell us that we have no idea, that our imaginings of the future are both wildly over-feared and inconceivably understated, that with each split-second breath we take, we cross the pink into another split-second that is filled with hope of new.  but sheesh, we are human and we are worried, fearful, guilt-ridden, persistently trying to figure out what we did wrong to elicit ‘such a response’, repeatedly weighing everything, sorting, feeling powerless.

what if we stayed in the moment of delicious pink, watching the sun promise rest and a new day.

“take it slow/don’t let this moment go/it’s here and it’s now/use this gift somehow”

read more about this song IN A SPLIT SECOND here

purchase the CD AS SURE AS THE SUN or download on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

sunsetontherocks WI website box

IN A SPLIT SECOND from AS SURE AS THE SUN ©️ 2002 kerri sherwood

 


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right now. [k.s. friday]

right now songbox.jpg

i remember writing this.  i was coming out of storms and it felt like i was, at last, rising like a weak sun in the dense fog, slowly but surely burning off the fog.  it was my right-now.

i wonder how many times in life we re-do that.  like the movie groundhog day, we re-live again and again the process of coming out of the mess, the stress, the worry.   life seems fraught with those storms and fog sometimes.  we yearn for steady, for clear skies, for brilliant sun.

when the day is done and we go to sleep with wrinkled brow, we try, albeit sometimes futilely, to remember that right-now passes into the next.  this very ‘right-now’ will soon be ‘before’.

there will be a new day. a new right-now.  new hope.

purchase RIGHT NOW CD or download on iTunes or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

heart in sand website box

RIGHT NOW from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood


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each new day. [k.s. friday]

each new day songbox

my sweet momma would start the day by chirping to me, “good morning merry sunshine!”  what a gift to consistently start the day that way.

i wrote this piece at a difficult time in my life.  the titles on this album somewhat tell the story:  boundaries. scattered. pulling weeds. holding on, letting go. it’s not black and white.  figure it out.  taking stock.  baby steps.  each one a descriptor of that time;  each title written for the album before the music.  i composed to each word.

but the most important title on the album, the arc that reigns over the gut emotion of the rest, i realize now is ‘each new day’.  for we are granted yet another chance….to choose to live the day well, to embrace the new, to walk in tomorrow’s grace, to love, to choose kindness, to say we are sorry, to recuperate from something that has hurt us, to work toward balance, to forgive, to model goodness, to help someone else in pain, to learn something new, to listen, to laugh, to hold someone’s hand or share a hug, to do better…

time really does move breathtakingly fast.  each new day counts.  good morning merry sunshine.

purchase the CD or download on iTunes or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

sunrisewebsite

EACH NEW DAY from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

 

 

 


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a familiar sight. [two artists tuesday]

jelly jars & sunset

this will become a familiar sight. sunset coloring the lake, an island populated by waterbirds in the distance, jelly jars in hand.  we have arrived.

fog dawned this day, which somehow seems apropos, considering.   dogdog and babycat are struggling to adjust – a different house – the “littlehouse” as opposed to “home”.  we are surrounded by bins and artwork and happy lights and a bulletin board full of photos. we have our picnic basket and our nespresso, office supplies and our peace signs. we’ve hung an old window frame and the chalkboard from our wedding. we have a vintage road-worn black suitcase just waiting to be filled with the stuff of this adventure. we have beach buckets with sunglasses and paintbrushes, kitchen utensils and a bottle of wine. we brought our cloth napkins, jelly jars and a set of our favorite bowls, our hydroflask coffee mugs and water thermoses, our lidded yeti wine tumblers. we have dogdog’s penguin, his lion, his candy cane and babycat’s chase-the-ball-in-the-circle plastic game. we have candles and clipboards, ukuleles, lawn games, and various devices that play music. we have threadied us up.

and it all boils down to this one thing – in my pocket now every day since jen gave it to me – a silver token that says PEACE.

right now, these thready things embrace me. they help with that peace I’m reminded of by this little token.

but this will all become a familiar sight. i know that.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

feet on the street WI website box