reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


Leave a comment

ducks in a row. [two artists tuesday]

ducks in a row copy

i am a list-maker.  i come from a long line of list-makers so dna is definitely involved.  with the layer-cake of jobs that comes with being an artist – performing, visual, any kind of artist – lists are a necessity.  i use paper calendars, old spiral notebooks with kirsten or craig scrawl on them, pa pads that my sweet poppo made, composition books.  sticky notes, pencils, highlighters and sharpies rule my office-supply world.  i am analog.  and i love having all my ducks in a row.

we were on our way to hike late one afternoon when we encountered these ducks.  walking the crack in the street, all in a row, i heard in my ever-present-soundtrack-mind, “quack, quack, waddle, waddle, quack, quack, waddle, waddle (from an 80’s mcdonald’s commercial – watch for 0:54).”  they seemed unperturbed by our approach.  we stopped to let them pass and get safely to the side of the road.  i’m positive i saw the last one carrying an office max bag.

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

laughing website box

 

 

 

Advertisements


Leave a comment

tear down, build up. [merely-a-thought monday]

nature of life box

the seasons pass.  we lurch from lush to barren.  we see the fire season lengthening, the arctic ice shelf shrinking, the oceans warming, the atmosphere more potentially lethal.  we see the lack of a bipartisan country, divisiveness poisoning our communities, self-serving rule over a democracy based on equity and compassion.  we are stymied by what we can do, what we can accomplish as individuals and we speak up, at the ready to be buoyed by support or torn down by scorn.  we have traversed the spectrum of built up and trampled.

i hope this season will pass.  that the tearing down will yield a new harvest.  that we will pay attention to our good earth and its physical struggles.  that we will cross the aisle and reach out.  that each of us will count, no matter our ANYthing.  that sensitivity and humanity and fairness will lead our actions.  that we will be kind.  that we will build up.  that this now barren-in-so-many-ways-land will again be lush.  with promise.  for everyone.

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

birdy feet website box

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment

sweet sleep. [d.r. thursday]

David Robinson 4by4 copy

i write this with a sound-asleep babycat tucked up next to me.  he is snoring, deeply sleeping, curled up, his paws tucked in, one under his little head.  it is sweet and i savor this moment of his complete trust.  he is obviously in bliss.

i envy his blissful slumber.  i am not as good a sleeper as he.  this middle-age-menopause thing wakes me every night.  and every night, despite my urging to the contrary, my brain, clearly wildly uncontrolled, starts to think.  lists accumulate, calendars form in my mind, my worry starts.  and that’s it.  i am lost in the weeds of insomnia.

after we had spoken about it a day or so prior, dan told me one morning that he had been awake thinking of our under-the-sink plumbing problem at 2am (!) and had, at that hour, come up with a solution.  truth be told, he didn’t really have to wait under the next day; i’m quite sure i was awake and could have had a plumbing-solution-guru-text chat in the wee hours.  wendy and 20 have both teased about texting me in the middle of the night when they are awake.  i am not alone in sleep deprivation.

this painting is like looking at babycat.  a sleep that is uninterrupted, peaceful.  it evokes younger images of small children on mats during naptime.  it is serene.

babycat stretches and rolls onto his back.  he is tucked under the computer cord, laying on top of papers.  but he is content.  and back to sleep.  sweet sleep.

babycat sleeps

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

drc website header copy 2

babycatContemplating website

4×4/SLUMBER ©️ david robinson

 

 


Leave a comment

a beautiful day in the neighborhood. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

the moon and first ave copy

when fred rogers aka mr. rogers used to sing, “it’s a beautiful day in this neighborhood, a beautiful day in this neighborhood.  …  would you be mine?  …  won’t you be my neighbor?” i remember singing along.  it seemed he was from a different time.  a time when neighborhoods were truly communities.

we are lucky to live in a neighborhood that includes neighbors who are friends.  dear friends.  we gather on back patios and back decks, inside around dining room tables, huddled next to firepits and in each other’s kitchens.  we talk, we laugh, we try to solve the world’s problems.  our neighbors aren’t all the same ages, so we are at different times in our lives, which adds wisdom and perspective and good learnings to these times we spend together.  i have no idea what we would do without these wonderful people.

last weekend after linda and jim’s impromptu gathering, we walked down their driveway.  lighting our way was this moon, shining across the water, over the rocks, directly to us.

yes.  it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

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

neighborhood cheers website box


Leave a comment

co-existing. [two artists tuesday]

co-exist

the dried bones of the cornfield are beautiful. we have watched the field change through the seasons.  last summer when we couldn’t see beyond the stalks in front of us, lush and green and full of life.  the fall when, as the field browned, we would find cobs on the trail, feed corn for the deer and other gluten-free wildlife.   (just making sure you are paying attention!)  the winter, when snow charmed the tall stalks. and finally, early spring, combine-blunt-cut-short stalks remain in this no-till field, sharing the rich soil with the promise of spring.  dandelions and corn.  co-existing.  apparently, dandelions are easier to control in the fall than in the spring.  they store up moisture and nutrients in their roots and so are pretty hardy in these may-days.  they were there all along.  co-existing.

we don’t disparage dandelions.  we have dandelions in our yard.  co-existing with grass. we aren’t pro-active about gaining their presence, but neither are we terribly pro-active about eliminating them.  we don’t spray chemicals that would be harmful to either domestic pets walking by or to wild animals that roam our area.  we do have neighbors who are deeply invested in their removal, so we try to be good community stewards and pull some out so as to not spread them.  but dandelion-removal isn’t a passion of ours and we really don’t mind too much the co-existence of dandelions with grass.  besides, we can always blame it on last fall.  they’ve been there all along.

FullSizeRender

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

shadows des plaines website box

 

 


Leave a comment

baggage. [merely-a-thought monday]

your past

“your past should not dictate your future.”

we carry it all with us.  baggage.  baggage upon baggage upon baggage.  i once (poorly) drew a graphic of a stick person with an “outbreak of baggage”.   rollie bags and attaches, spinners and hardshells, suitcases and totes; i depicted a person with multiples of these, pulling and dragging and lugging them everywhere. each experience shoved into the depths of some piece of luggage; more and more loaded into expandable bags, the zippers stretched to the breaking point.  we lose sleep, perseverating over all the baggage we have.  the wee hours of the night nag us; we miss the hope of the sunrise.

but the sunrise happens nonetheless.  and the grace of a new day is gifted to us.  just as the tide-wave rushes in to the shoreline and cleanses the beach, washing away the footprints of the previous day, smoothing the rough edges, so does the new day grant us another chance.  we stand – present – right now, feet neither in yesterday nor in tomorrow.  our load is lessened, our baggage drops away.  we are freed to step lightly into next.  for our past does not dictate our future.

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

sunrisewebsite

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment

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