reverse threading

the path back is the path forward


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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

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EACH NEW DAY from RIGHT NOW ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

 

 

 


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welcome sign. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

welcome flag .PNG

the first time we went to the tiny farmer’s market on island we ran into a few people we had just met.  new friends, they stopped to chat for a time and tom said, “the whole island is a welcome sign.”  that seems to be true.  a welcome sign.

yesterday we heard about people standing in line in the little grocery store.  the clerk and the customer checking out were having a chat.  no one in line interrupted.  no one shuffled their groceries.  no one shifted from one leg to the other, impatiently sighing loudly.  they just waited.  and then, when it was their turn, they had their own chat with the clerk.  the grocery store is a welcome sign.

we were walking down the road arm in arm, a few miles from home, and an old light blue pickup truck pulled up next to us.  a sweet old man leaned out and said, “you two lovebirds want a ride?”  we laughed and said that we were out for a stroll.  motioning to the bed of the truck, he told us he had plenty of room but added, “it looks like you are doing just fine.”  we chatted a minute more and he pulled away.  a welcome sign.

we were obliviously riding our bikes on the road, looking for deer in the woods.  talking quietly and laughing at my attempts at no-handed riding (which, by the way, came back after a try or two), i suddenly realized there was a car behind us.  i motioned quickly to d to pull over in front of me and get out of the car’s way.  as it passed, i called into the rolled-down window “sorry!”  the driver called back, “no worries!  enjoy your ride!”  no horn beeping, no revving of engine, no grumpy voice, no gesturing.  just a “no worries!”  a welcome sign.

it’s a sweet thing, this welcome.

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

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classic. woman. [d.r. thursday]

classic framed  copy 2.jpg

CLASSIC mixed media 20″ x 16″

my sweet momma had a painting of a modestly nude woman hanging in her master bath.  she was proud of this painting and of its location.  it traveled with them from long island to various homes in florida, an item that made the keep-it cut time and again.  now, this painting was not a brilliant work of art, for it was actually a paint-by-number that she had painted at some point before painting her own abstracts. (more on paint-by-numbers at a later date.)

but momma’s painting was meaningful to her and i suspect it represented a powerful statement – the beauty of a woman’s body, the grace of line, the respect shown.  perfection.  i think it resembled her in her youth, and in later years reminded her of earlier years, an earlier body before babies and emotion and injury and surgeries and wrinkles and time changed everything.  changed the shape and the look of body but added strength and wisdom that only life lived can add.  momma was indeed a woman before her time.

CLASSIC is such a painting, but is exquisite art.  the beauty of a woman’s body, the grace of line, the respect shown.

momma would have loved this painting of david’s and, probably, would have convinced him to hang it for her in her own home.  it would remind her of how much she loved being a woman.  of how she taught her daughters and granddaughters to embrace being female and yet, not to stand by meekly or idly or retreatingly.  to revel in the beauty of having a body that is female, but not to tout or compare or compete.  to move with grace as best as you can, for in that movement grace will be found.  to show and expect respect for your own body, in all ways.  to recognize perfection.  in all the times of life.

view/purchase CLASSIC in david’s gallery online

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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CLASSIC ©️ 2013 david robinson

 

 

 


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when the fog lifts. [k.s. friday]

when the fog lifts songbox copy.jpg

“…the other end of the process of living through uncertainty…” (liner notes)

sometimes when we drive along third avenue, right around the corner from our house, the fog totally obscures lake michigan.  you would never know it was even there.  you can’t see where the shoreline is, you can’t see the expanse of lake.  further down the road, you can’t see the beach, the waves, the jetty.  it is as if, for this time, the lake and the sky are one; neither exist and both exist.

this duality, this co-existence…is what this piece is about.  the presence of clarity and the presence of haze.  when i read my liner notes this morning, i sighed.  i wrote them in 1997 – (a shocking) twenty-two years ago.  i was 38.  i must have thought there was an “end” to uncertainty then.  and, at the time, i must have interpreted the fog, the mist, in a somewhat negative way, as something to get “through”, relief at the other end.

and then the fog lifts over the lake and there is differentiation of planes.  the sky becomes sky; the lake becomes lake.  until the next fog rolls in.

this month i will turn 60.  it takes me a few seconds for that to sink in each time i think about it.  were i to re-record this piece now, i would slow it down.  i would linger in the fog a little longer, not so afraid of it, of its mystery.  i’m still learning to embrace the fog, still learning to watch for the sky when it lifts, still learning that both can co-exist:  clarity and uncertainty.  nothing is really clear in life.  nothing is absolute.  we keep stepping. it is truly all a little foggy.  i now think it’s supposed to be that way.

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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WHEN THE FOG LIFTS from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

 

 

 

 

 


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the wisdom of lester. [merely a thought monday]

i'm trending copy

we have found that little bits of wisdom are all around us.  we were on the train to chicago when we encountered a wise man named lester.  he seemed a gentle soul, a big man with soft eyes, he was sitting across the aisle from us.  he talked to us about his life, about life in general. he had had a long day already, commuting by numerous trains in a circuitous route to go to a job interview; he wanted to make some changes and the interview he had been to was part of that.

he told us of a relationship he was in – nothing that was all that serious – but there was this woman….  the thing that stuck with us was his comment that in the morning as he awoke with her, she was on her phone….scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.  the early sun bright in the room, this lovely man by her side, she was endlessly looking on various social media platforms for what was trending.  “put down your phone,” he pleaded to the side of her that had forgotten he was even there.  “i’m trending.”

we’ve talked about presence before.  we’ve talked about being in the moment and not missing it.  we’ve talked about gratitude and time together.  we’ve talked about how fleeting time really is.  we’ve talked about relationship and listening and appreciating the place you are, the minute you are in.  and yet, in six words, lester said it better – “put down your phone.  i’m trending.”  wisdom indeed.

read DAVID’S thoughts on this MERELY A THOUGHT MONDAY

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you can’t hold the sun. [d.r. thursday]

Angel Morsel

it goes by.  time.  no matter how much you want to hold onto it.  there are THOSE moments…the ones you treasure.  there are THOSE moments…the ones you want to forget ever happened.  the only thing we can depend on, despite wishing otherwise, is that either moment – the one we cling to or the one we abhor – either moment will go by. we can’t hold the sun.  it is elusive.  it is fleeting.  but a new day will come.  we can look to the dawn for a fresh start, one more try, a little hope, another moment to cherish.

Angel copy

Angel 48″ x 24″

read DAVID’S thoughts on this D.R. THURSDAY

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you can’t hold the sun/angel ©️ 2018/2004 david robinson & kerri sherwood

 

 


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time together. [k.s. friday]

time together song box

the air coming through the windows this morning felt cool.  almost chilly.  it has been a long while since the last time i could say that of a morning here.  we have had a very hot, very humid summer…not my favorite combination.  but today.  it was different.  and it made me feel immediately homesick.  that happens every fall for me.  maybe it’s a melancholy recognition of the passing of time, years zooming by.  maybe it’s the season-change-thing…we know grey days are lurking right around the corner.  either way, i feel homesick.

it’s a time when i miss long island the most, recall my growing-up years, pine for the autumn at millneck manor and long deserted-beach walks at crab meadow.  a time when my sweet momma and poppo are really present for me in their absence, if that makes sense.  i yearn to talk to them.  a time when The Girl and The Boy seem oh-so-grown-up now, steeped in their own adult-lives, having adventures and being a dynamic part of this world, far away, without the benefit of hearing ‘good night moon’ every night.  i know that every evening they roll their eyes at my goodnight texts to them, but i figure that someday they will understand.  homesick.

yesterday was my father-in-law’s 85th birthday.  we called columbus and sang ‘happy birthday’ to him.  my momma and daddy did that every year for me and i try to carry on the tradition with the people i love.  he laughed and told us he had gotten back from dinner at texas roadhouse and was listening to an old record.  he listens to old records a lot.  i suspect, because he is the man he is, that he gets homesick.  i can tell by his eyes that he would totally understand me if i told him how i felt.

so today, if you are spending time together with someone, memorize it.  if you are lucky enough to spend time with your momma or your daddy, please hug them.  if you are one of the fortunate parents who have their children nearby, hold on just a little tighter and look into their faces when you say goodnight.  relish it.

there is nothing like it.

time together.

 

download TIME TOGETHER track 3 from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY on iTUNES or CDBaby or PURCHASE the ALBUM

read DAVID’S thoughts on this K.S. FRIDAY

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TIME TOGETHER from THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY ©️ 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood