An Ancient Map [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 29, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

What if I told you that this was a fragment of an ancient map. A river and its tributaries. The color coding of the map, the brown and green, explains the river and its tributaries – or perhaps its distributaries; the streams running away from the main river, deltas reaching into and quenching the thirst of parched brown landscape? No matter. This fragment of map is gorgeous and leaf-like.

We explain the relationship between the brown and green by defining the direction of the water flow. Does it run toward or away from the central river? Do the tributaries flow into the stem and then into the branch that connects to the trunk and runs deep into the root? Or the other way around? Is the green a flourishing of what was once brown or is the brown the retreat of what was once green?

Inhale or exhale?

Perhaps it is not a fragment of map after all but a leaf dropped from a tree, laying as we found it, all alone on the concrete, staring up at what used to be. It’s time has come.

The green of the leaves that line our street are in slow retreat. Cooler temperatures and incessant rain have turned the tides. The flow of life has changed direction and instead of sun now seeks the root. The season of underground rejuvenation is upon us. Rest. Recuperation.

Green turns red en route to brown. Falling leaves feed the soil, returning life to the root. The leaf does not separate from the life of the tree, it falls to rejoin it.

Life feeds life. It’s why, after taking the photograph of this leaf, this fragment of ancient map, she gently lifted it and moved it from the concrete to the grass where it might fulfill its mission-cycle.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE LEAF

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Every Ounce [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 28, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I have known a very few people who came into this world with enough natural confidence and inner strength to meet any chaotic circumstance with calm. Most of us do not have that innate skill. We must gain it through life-experience.

Horatio made me laugh when he told me that confidence was a fake-it-until-you-make-it affair. Confidence, he explained, is never a matter of knowing what you are doing; it is knowing that you have the capacity to figure things out – no matter what. The faking-it-part is more than a performance. It is muscle building. It is exercising and strengthening belief in the capacity-to-figure-things-out. For most of us mortals that workout never ends.

Sail toward the horizon. Take a chance. Do anything else. Try it. Try it again. Step into it. It will all work out in the end. You can do it.

My mentors, brilliant men and women who wrestled with their own unique doubts and fears, taught me that confidence was not something gained; it is what happens when a moment is fully occupied. To be fully in the present with what-is and not lost in a sea of what-should-be; presence is the muscle to develop. Confidence, like happiness, follows. It’s a paradox as all truths are paradoxes: you cannot control the circumstances but you can control how you are within the circumstances. So, be in the circumstances. The image that comes to mind is from Forrest Gump: Captain Dan lashes himself the a mast in the roaring storm and roars back-at-it, “Bring it on!” The inner storm meets the outer storm.

On a rainy Saturday afternoon we watched The Art Of Racing In the Rain, narrated by Enzo the dog. Enzo is in his last days and reviews his life because he believes that, if he can integrate life’s lessons in the short bit of time remaining to him, he will come back as a human We sobbed and laughed at Enzo’s life review. With our aging Dogga asleep at our feet, it struck a nerve.

“Dogga is preparing us,” Kerri said, her eyes filling with tears. I nodded. He is a magic dog and has been our teacher all along.

“We’ll be okay,” I say, not knowing what to say, wondering how we will be able to get through it.

And then I remember…the journey to “okay” will hurt, yet we will step into what-is-to-come as we did so long ago when we saw a sign that said, “Aussie pups,” and stopped “just to take a look”, not knowing that life was throwing us into a curve. We stepped into it fully, all the chaos and joy and love that came with the Aussie pup that stole our hearts and made us a family.

Staring down at Dogga, asleep at our feet, I have no confidence that I will be graceful in the hurt-that-is-to-come. I am confident that we will hold hands and feel it. All of it. All the gratitude, all the grief. Every moment. Every last ounce of the enormity.

read Kerri’s blogpost about COURAGE

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Keeping Vigil [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 25, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I’ve read that mourning doves are “strongly monogamous and often mate for life.” I’ve also read that, when one of the pair dies, “The survivor often sits in a nearby tree or roof and coos repeatedly, calling for a partner that will not answer.”

Lately, each afternoon, the mourning dove arrives to hold its vigil. It sits on the same wire in the same spot. Each day we watch for it and when it arrives, we hold vigil with it. We watch. We know that its partner will not appear. We wait for it to know. It is silent.

“It’s so sad,” Kerri whispers. I nod.

This dove reminds me of the last time I saw my great-aunt Dorothy. Del had died suddenly and she was heartbroken. It was the first and only time I saw this powerful mountain woman wearing a dress. Emerald green. I almost did not recognize her. As a boy I’d followed her up mountains, unable to keep up. In her grief she was barely standing. She passed a few months later; a broken heart.

I had my annual physical yesterday. The doctor asked me if I had a will. Then, she asked if there was someone who knew my wishes. I thought of Kerri waiting for me in the reception area. I answered easily, “Yes.” For a moment I was overcome with gratitude; I have not always been able to answer, “Yes,” so I repeated my answer, “Yes.”

Yes.

Sitting on the examination table, I shifted my weight, the paper crinkled. I thought of the mourning dove, the weight of grief sitting on the wire. Dorothy. Loneliness. Heart break. Gratitude. Kerri waiting for me. The paper crinkled. The doctor listened to my heart.

Today, the mourning dove did not return. We held our vigil for it none-the-less.

WRITTEN IN YOUR LIFE on the album AS SURE AS THE SUN © 2002 Kerri Sherwood

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE MOURNING DOVE

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Life Carpentry [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 24, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

I teased Kerri that this morning that the first thing on my to-do list was to build the ark. It rained again last night. It’s raining now. I’m not talking about gentle downpours; this is an Alabama rain, tropical, an incessant dumping after yesterday’s dumping preceded by the dumping of rain the day before that. Kerri reminded me that my carpentry skills are lacking so, even if I built something that resembled a boat, no animal with good sense would get on it. I have to admit it, she’s right. I’d never set sail on a boat of my own construction.

A few days-that-feel-like-months ago, the sun came out. In the early evening we sat outside so Dogga could sniff the fence line and bark at random sounds. He’s an old dog now so it makes him feel good to bark into the universe. While he investigated the backyard and the greater galaxy, we sat in our Adirondack chairs and watched the clouds. They glowed, putting on quite a show for us. While the beauty of this world evokes a rowdy bark from Dogga, it does the opposite for us: it invites quiet appreciation. It was one of those rare moments when I knew to my bones -at least in that moment – that all was right in my world.

In that moment. Every spiritual tradition on the planet warns of the folly of trying to hang onto the feeling of a moment. The best we can do is savor and move on.

It is good practice to regularly step back from a canvas and from a distance look at the painting. It brings the whole composition back into focus. Stepping back exposes what is invisible when working close-in. “What’s next” becomes readily apparent when standing back. It’s route finding.

The same thing is true in life. It’s why people take vacations or go on retreats or simply take-a-break. To get some distance from our close-in lives and feel what we do not allow ourselves to fully feel, to re-consider, to open the door and invite in the dreams that have been waiting patiently in the lobby.

Sitting in the Adirondack chair, watching with awe the cloud-spectacular, I heard Joseph Campbell in my mind, saying, “No one lives the life they intended.” Had the younger version of me actually built the boat of my intentions and successfully sailed off toward the horizon, I would have missed this moment, Dogga bark-communing with the universe, Kerri and I reveling with the sun on our faces after days of rain, holding hands, shaking our heads at the impossible beauty of the glowing clouds. I thanked all the powers-that-be that my carpenter skills were-and-are lacking, that my life-ship sank in the bay and required me to step back, take a look and live a life of route finding. My path meandered to a place I never imagined, to a moment I did not think was possible. Simple awe. Had I been a better life-carpenter I would have missed it.

Canopy, 48″x48″, acrylic on canvas

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE GLOW

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Rainbow Or Snake? [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 23, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Can you see it?”

“No.” I squinted.

“It’s right there,” she said, pointing to the cloud.

“I still don’t see it.”

“How can you not see it! It’s a rainbow!”

I took off my sunglasses. Nothing. “Nope.”

“It’s right there!” she repeated, pointing with increased vigor, her New York roots arising.

I stood up, walked behind her chair so I might look from her exact perspective. And there it was. A slice of rainbow. A few feet to the left or right and the colors were invisible. She was triumphant. “I told you there was a rainbow!”

I’m glad it was a rainbow and not a snake or a hole I might fall into. My doubt about what others perceive has bitten me more than once. “It’s beautiful,” I said, the pastel colors slowly fading. A few moments later and I wouldn’t have seen it. It would have vanished and I’d have teased her all day about imagining rainbows.

There are worse things to imagine.

I value her perspective so I give it credence even when I do not see what she sees. I try again and again to see the rainbow that she insists is right before my eyes because I trust her, because I am interested in seeing what she sees. Because we routinely call attention to the beautiful or interesting so we might share the tiny miracles that surround us. We try to open each other’s eyes.

We try.

I believe opening each other’s eyes to the tiny miracles, to help each other see what we might be missing, is what people are meant to do for each other. It’s a primary function of community. We need not agree.

Much to my surprise and dismay, each day that I write, I come to the same crossroad. I wonder how can I honestly write a post about valuing the perspective of others when there are so many perspectives in this nation that I fundamentally do not value? I have long ago given up trying to find access or manufacture excuses for perspectives that I find abhorrent. I no longer try because I do not trust. We are in a stand-off, “How can you not see it?” we hiss at each other.

We do not try. I do not try.

So, perhaps this is not a post about the virtue of standing in the other’s shoes but the recognition that there are some shoes I refuse to stand in. The bridge is burned. I cannot validate the ugliness by attempting to see or understand the other perspective. I have learned – we have learned – that when they point and say, “Look! A rainbow!” what they see is a snake. They would have me call it a rainbow.

A rainbow or a snake? A perspective or a delusion?

Trust is broken in our nation. My daily dilemma is our daily dilemma. Yet, in my deep belief, I hold true that once the snake has faded, once the delusion dissipates, we will have a short walk back to trust. We will have learned a hard lesson about snakes and that might be our first step back into common ground. On that day, we will ask in earnest, “Tell me what you see?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE RAINBOW

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Shadow and Substance [David’s blog on Two Artists Tuesday]

Posted on September 22, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“Even in the valley of the shadow of death, two and two do not make six.” ~ Leo Tolstoy

When I am stuck or empty of thought, when I do not know what to write about, I sometimes jump into quotes to get me moving. The quote is like a pebble that starts an avalanche. This quote assures me that there is sense to be made, that there are universal rules that apply to all. We are born. We all die. Gravity keeps our feet on the ground even though the ground is a ball spinning through space. Two and two make four, even if the current occupant of the White House insists that it is six.

“A false friend and a shadow attend only while the sun shines.” ~ Benjamin Franklin

I have a theory about maga republicans. They are false friends, keeping close to their dear-leader as long as the sun shines. Sundown is coming, if not already here. They are already fading. Some have stopped attending but they have already rendered themselves as substance-free, nothing more than shadow. The question becomes, “Will we believe them when they claim to be thought-full, 3 dimensional, independent, caring and well-intended representatives of their constituents?” I hope not. I hope we-the-people have more substance than that, a higher expectation of the people who are meant to represent us.

“There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires.” ~ Nelson Mandela


There is a dial called “If they gain, we lose,” that the wealthy twist every time this nation actually approaches equality. It’s a very old dial, installed at our nation’s inception. It has been extremely useful for protecting privilege when the greater rabble question the inequities in a nation purportedly based on the ideals of equality and freedom-and-justice-for-all. The current lot have been cranking the dial. Despite their fears and repeated efforts to divide us, to demolish democracy and enrich their holdings, the mountaintop of our desires remains. Perhaps this will be our last pass through the valley? Perhaps we will finally be willing and able to disconnect the dial, erase the concocted divisions and, together, reach the mountaintop?

“Beware that you do not lose the substance by grasping at the shadow.” ~ Aesop

Growing older, stacking experiences, is a great teacher of shadow versus substance. Our nation has just passed its 250th year though it seems locked in a cycle of shadow-grabbing. Separating substance from shadow is a skill that comes from an honest review of history. The good, the bad, and the ugly – all of it – is necessary for clarifying what matters and what does not. Is a ballroom essential while the people starve? Is a president profiteering from his office an official duty that betters the community and advances our society? It begs two related questions: How long are we will to pretend that shadow is substance? How long can we enable shadow-grasping before we lose our national substance, before we become nothing more than a shadow?

“When virtue is lost, benevolence appears, when benevolence is lost right conduct appears, when right conduct is lost, expedience appears. Expediency is the mere shadow of right and truth; it is the beginning of disorder.” ~ Lao Tzu

A pebble starts an avalanche.

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE SHADOW

www.kerrianddavid.com

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The Basic Action [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

Posted on September 21, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“In a democracy, dissent is an act of faith.” ~ J. William Fulbright

Are you as confused as I am that people in a democracy choose not to vote? How is it possible to believe that your vote does not matter? That is the equivalent of saying to yourself, “I have no voice.” Or, it is an embrace of root rot, to uphold the victim-belief that the democracy is already gone and the act of voting is a sham.

To this day I am gobsmacked that in our last election more people decided not to vote than those who voted for either candidate. In one of the closest presidential races in our history, a race that was by all accounts the most important in our lifetime, 90 million Americans stayed home. 90 million people chose voicelessness. 90 million people thought that their voice did not matter.

Surrounded by the wreckage of our system, demolished over the past two years by an authoritarian regime, I challenge anyone to convince me that their vote did not count, that their voice does not count. In this case, silence is not dissent. It was surrender. Going forward, silence is conformity.

And here we are again only this time – this time – is not only the most important vote of our lives, it may be the most important vote in the life of our democracy. We are voting to fight for the life of government of, by and for the people – or to pull the plug and let it die.

Each day I read appeals to get out the vote – essentially an appeal to convince people in a democracy under siege – that they have a voice, that their voice matters. Given the utter corruption, the selling-out of the people to enrich the privileged few, it confuses me.

Standing in the rubble – and the wave of devastation of social safety net still-to-come thanks to the Big Ugly Bill, another forever war, The Epstein Class cover-up…I wonder why anyone would need convincing to speak up.

A vote is either an act of approval or it is an act of dissent. It is the fundamental, the basic action defining our system: the people have the power to choose their path by voting to stay the course or to change it. It is an enormous power and with power comes responsibility. In our government, it is sometimes hard to remember that we have the power – by design. Our democracy can only collapse if we allow it to happen.

The ongoing all-out-assault on our right to vote, waged by the president and his feckless party, is meant to render us voiceless. It is a power grab. They would squeeze us into conformity and if they succeed, the 90 million will have proven themselves as authoritarian-first-adapters, selecting voicelessness en route to a rotten system, modeling itself on Putin’s Russia or Orbán’s Hungary, a system of control that relies on a complacent and silent citizenry.

We have the opportunity, perhaps our last, to dissent. To speak. To uphold our responsibility. To vote.

“Has there ever been a society which has died of dissent? Several have died of conformity in our lifetime.” ~ Jacob Brownoski


read Kerri’s blogpost about DISSENT

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Just A Few Feet [David’s blog on KS Friday]

Posted on September 18, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Lessons from the garden, vol. 1, episode 11. Title: Every Plant Has It’s Place.

When you buy a plant the little tag stuck into the soil offers location advice and watering preferences. Sun part shade. Full sun. Keep soil damp. Water only when soil is dry. And, as helpful as the information is, it is generic at best. I’ve learned that plants are like people: thriving is based on individual preference. Not all sun-part-shade locations are the same.

For instance, we have a pot of Impatiens that was in the perfect spot according to its tag. 48 hours after coming home with us it was sad indeed. We moved it 3 feet to the left to a spot where it would have 6 more minutes of shade each day and a better view of the tomatoes and it boomed. It sings arias. It is a boastful Impatiens daily testing the limitations of its pot. Such a small change for such a mighty response.

I’ve already reported about moving of the very-depressed-sweet-potato-vine from the ladder to Barney-the-piano and how it perked up immediately. Last season the sweet potato vine adored the ladder but this sad character was not happy with its locale. The move to Barney was balm to its Gilead. The amount of sun-to-shade is the same, the amount of water has not changed. Only the view is different. And, I suppose, it sits on top of Barney’s lid as opposed to being suspended from a rung. Perhaps, like me, this sweet potato vine was afraid of heights? No matter. Now it is happy and wrapping Barney in vines of sweet potato love.

The sweet potato vine move left an empty space on the ladder. It was late in the season and we found an almost dying fern at the nursery. Half price. They wanted to sell it before it was in full demise. We brought it home, used shower curtain hooks to suspend it from the ladder. Attended to its obvious need and the next day it was radiant. It simply needed a new location called “home” and a bit of personal attention.

I learned the same lesson when I was working with the schools. Not all kids are desk-sitters. Kinesthetic kids need the freedom to move or to run a lesson through their fingers. For them, a desk is despair. Simply standing up and stretching their limbs transformed frustration into happy exploration.

I learned the same lesson in the theatre. The best stagemangers I worked with were previously unhappy actors. A simple move a few feet across an imaginary line made all the difference. Plus, they learned early in their new location/identity that the snacks are much better at the tech table.

Like their human counterparts, every plant has its place. The solution to the droop need not be dramatic or complicated. Thriving might be just a few feet away.

NURTURE ME on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART © 1995 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE FERN

www.kerrianddavid.com

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Amazing Shapeshifter [David’s blog on DR Thursday]

Posted on September 17, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

Corking: white linear scars that indicate sweeter, fully ripe pepper with good flavor

To me, corking is a term exclusive to wine bottles. It comes at the moment when, sadly, you decide that one glass is enough. And then, recently, I found myself at a farm stand gaping at the beautiful markings on a basket of jalapeno peppers. “What is that?” I asked, pointing at the peppers.

“Corking.” While nature is a crazy good designer, people have a genuinely hard time creating words to express the beautiful.

In times gone by, “corking” meant “wonderful” or “splendid”. In a past century I might have written, “Nature is a corking good designer.”

Corking precedes “rad” by a few generations but means the same thing. Today you might hear “slaps” or “fire”. Language is an amazing shapeshifter. I’d have completely misunderstood a Gen Z-er, admiring the basket of corking peppers, who said, “Those peppers are fire!”

Do you remember when “bad” meant “good”?

Sometimes I think it is a miracle that we can communicate at all.

When I was young my grandparents used the phrase, “She’s a corker!” It meant “very funny”. We boomers might say, “She’s a riot!”

I bumbled upon this quote from a 16th century French writer, Michel de Montaigne, and thought it more relevant today than when he wrote it: “The greater part of the world’s troubles are due to questions of grammar.”

We currently communicate by text. Condensing our grammar inflates our troubles. We somehow believe language efficiency produces effective communication. We have eliminated time for complexity. We live sound byte to sound byte.

We are learning that governance by text is an especially dubious affair. Efficient word count is provocative but certainly less-than-effective.

These days I might text, “The world is on fire!” and a Gen Z-er might misunderstand me completely. They’d understand the opposite of what I intended. For me, the “world is on fire” does not mean that it is rad or the bomb or slaps. It is definitely not corking.

***

Bonus Snark Addition: We consistently invent new words for old concepts so the mistakes of the past seem like new territory. Perhaps this is why history repeats itself? Today, instead of “Schutzstaffel” (condensed into SS), we say ICE. Instead of Nazi Party, we say MAGA Republican. Different words, same meaning. Neither is corking.

detail of Instrument Of Peace

read Kerri’s blogpost about CORKING

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Full Stop [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

Posted on September 16, 2026 by davidrobinsoncreative

“All colors are friends of their neighbors and lovers of their opposites.” ~ Marc Chagall

I was awake last night. As I stared at the ceiling I wondered if, after a lifetime of painting, I knew the first thing about color. Or brushes. Or surfaces. I wondered if I am shedding knowledge or never really gained it in the first place. I supposed that it probably does not matter either way as long as my eyes are open and I appreciate what I see.

Whether or not any knowledge sticks misses the point. Staring into the dark I managed to parse the difference between curiosity and information-gathering. I am and always have been a teflon-studier, a miserable retainer of detail. I like to roll up my sleeves and “see what happens”. I suppose I’ve made it a practice to regularly challenge what I think I know…

Staring into the dark I managed to laugh at the river of dross that regularly runs through my mind. It’s a wonder I can sleep at all.

The coneflowers nearly knocked me over. The orange with red against the green was so vibrant I almost had to look away. I like going to the garden center. Flowers are great teachers of color. So are walks in the woods. The garden center is a festival of color saturation while the woods are more of a quiet prayer.

I keep close at hand a National Geographic article about the color of human skin. We do ourselves a disservice to reduce each other to black-and-white. We are a full spectrum of color, glorious in the range of tint-to-shade. We could learn much from Marc Chagall’s observation of the color wheel. Rather than use our skin color to divide-and-conquer, to caste ourselves, to foment blather like eugenics and supremacy, we might open our eyes and see: “All colors are friends of their neighbors and lovers of their opposites.”

Together we are glorious. Separate we are without reference; flat and bland.

Full stop.

read Kerri’s blogpost about CONEFLOWERS

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