reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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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

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RIGHT NOW from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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millneck fall. [k.s. friday]

millneck fall songbox

every fall, my sweet momma and my poppo would load us up in the dodge with the old wicker picnic basket and a small cooler.  we would drive out east on long island or head north into upstate new york.  the baby of the family with siblings already out of the house, i always had a friend along.  susan went everywhere with us.  we would take mad libs and gum, snacks and cans of soda and we would talk and giggle our way to the apple farm.

it wasn’t like we couldn’t find apples near us; the jaunt away to apple-picking was the point.  the walk in the orchard, the drive through leaves of indescribably stunning color.  we’d stop at roadside picnic tables and take back country roads.  we’d go to fall festivals and arboretums where mums and the latest-hanging-on sunflowers populated the walkways.  millneck manor was one of those places.  so was planting fields.  treasured memories of time spent together.

a while later, as a young adult, i continued the tradition.  when the weather insisted on sweaters and jeans, i would make my pilgrimage to millneck manor and to planting fields, maybe driving out east or upstate.

and now, a long while later, i think of those places, those times.  the memories are sweet, macintosh-apple-sweet.  but the yearning is real.  every autumn makes me just as wistful.  i think of my children jumping in leaves and pumpkins carved with silly faces.  my parents and the old dodge.  pies with homemade crust, hot soup and cocoa, the smell of cinnamon and caramel candles.  fires in the fireplace or outside around the firepit.  jeans, sweaters, boots.  and apples.

download MILLNECK FALL on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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MILLNECK FALL from BLUEPRINT FOR MY SOUL ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood


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all you can. [k.s. friday]

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“do all the good you can,  by all the means you can, in all the ways you can, in all the places you can, at all the times you can, to all the people you can, as long as ever you can.”    (credit for quote is unclear)

this sounds like a good mantra for one’s life.  it would seem that it would bring satisfaction and accomplishment to someone invested in its mission.  it would seem that it would create joy for others.  it would seem that, were everyone to simply live by this precept, the world could actually be a place of peace.

but people are not infallible and personal agendas reign over the collective.  competition is fierce and the caste system hasn’t vaporized.  people keep score and vindication is a driving force.  people are self-serving and power-controlling and will knock those down in the way.

children are not born with the desire to exploit others or minimalize or marginize them.  they are not born with hatred in their hearts.  children are born with the ability to embrace all, include all.  they are not born with a scorecard in their hands.  they are born with the generosity of innocence.  they are not born with fear of places and peoples different than them.  they learn that.

we can teach our children to play nice.  but we need model it first.  we need do all we can.

download ALL YOU CAN from AS IT IS on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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ALL YOU CAN from AS IT IS ©️ 2004 kerri sherwood

 

 


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nurture me. carrots, pianos and frogs. [k.s. friday]

nurture me songbox

i miss my piano.  i didn’t realize how much until late last night, in the darkened theatre, my hands touched the keys and i could breathe.  my neck and shoulders, stiff and aching from undue stress, relaxed just a little.  tears fell down my face.  they are still there now, as i write this.

this morning, as d was making breakfast, a tree frog hopped out from between the cabinets and landed on the stove.  fortunately, we were able to coax him from the hot burners and take him safely outside.  it was unclear how he got inside.  but his message was clear, a message we had learned from helen quite some time ago.  f.r.o.g. = fully rely on God.  and so, a giggle and a time of fresh, deep breaths.

when i have performed this piece NURTURE ME (as i mentioned in a previous post) i have loved to tell the story of the carrot seed, the absolute knowing that nurturing can lift anyone, any living thing, from fallow, from despair, from seed into grandness, into thriving, into life.

carrots, pianos, tree frogs.  all are capable of telling the story.  nurture trumps hate.

 download RELEASED FROM THE HEART on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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NURTURE ME from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood


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kindred spirits… [k.s. friday]

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you know who you are.  we have connected in life and we will never be the same.  a few seconds, a season, a lifetime.   it’s all eternal.  you just know.  wherever each of us may roam, no matter where any of us reside, we stay connected, we stay woven into the fabric of each other.  you have blessed me with time spent and i have given you deeply invested moments.  we are human beings on this good earth.  we are creatures on this good earth.  in this vast universe, not to divide, but to join together.  we lead with love.  we are kindred spirits.  close.  or away.  it matters not.  it’s the same.

download RELEASED FROM THE HEART on iTUNES or CDBaby

read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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KINDRED SPIRITS…AWAY from RELEASED FROM THE HEART ©️ 1995 kerri sherwood

 


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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

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SCATTERED from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood


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

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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

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THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1998, 2000 kerri sherwood