My big kiln is full, the little one is waiting for a gold lustre firing!
The kiln was loaded up last night. Cooling as I write and maybe I’ll be able to unload it around midnight … or first thing in the morning depending on my need to suffer!
After my last blog I had quite a few people ask me why I keep on doing pottery and clay exploration when it appears that things don’t always work out. And, I’ve had a few people ask me if I’m going to get another dog, and why I’d want to do that when the chances are the dog is going to die before me and I’ll have to get through the loss of yet another pet. I think the answer to both of these questions is quite connected.
Sam and Zoey — it’s a sailor’s life for my dogs!
I loved my dog Sam. I’m sure he knew it, especially at dinner time. He gave me years of pleasure over the fifteen years he lived with us and was a very clever little being. When he was a puppy he used to sit with me through meditation, either beside me or on my lap, and that dog did not move until I was done. He has heard so many mantras and visited with so many illustrious teachers that I am sure that he is on to an auspicious new life. His body was worn out but he had a great spirit.
I generally have a great time working in clay, and have an ever greater time thinking about working in clay. In fact, I may have multitudes of ‘brilliant’ ideas about what I’ll do next or how things might be changed up to something almost ‘new’ in a single day. It keeps my mind occupied and lets me head off down alleys I might not even notice were there if I did not work in clay. Is everything a success? Not at all. Do I keep everything? No, the hammer gets a good work out. Could I switch it up so that everything I make is consistent? Certainly! But that wouldn’t suit my personality.
I believe in impermanence. I don’t know if ‘believe’ is the right word … that sounds like maybe it’s something fictional that can’t be proved. In my own experience I have noticed that things don’t stay the same. Pots break or sometimes turn out badly. Dogs die. The upside of this is that sometimes pots are great, even fabulous on occasion and for most of their lives dogs don’t die … When things are really, really good — that passes. But, when things are really, really bad — that also passes. For me this is hopeful. It gives me room for exploration.
So, are we there yet? You bet! We are here.
Hope you are enjoying this snowy day. I’m sitting here eating home-made soup with a dog at my feet. So glad that we had two …
Be well,
Susan
