Shaping Clay

We shape clay into a pot, 

but it is the emptiness inside

that holds whatever we want.

― Lao Tzu

Click to enlarge

The soda firing our class did last week was a good one for many of us, and my new experiment to apply just flashing slip to the exterior with a tiny bit of brushwork yielded a lovely pot.  The faceted pitcher caught the soda flash quite nicely too, the texture of the rasp gives the soda vapor a spot to grasp onto as it travels around the kiln.  I wasn't able to get a picture of the full kiln after the firing, as another student jumped the schedule and unloaded ahead of class time, much to the chagrin and ire of the rest of us.  We did get the glamor job of scraping the shelves, reapplying kiln wash and sweeping up the used wadding.  

While Macaroni and his companions are remaining out East, their humans will be visiting us this weekend!!  The son hasn't been home since last Holiday season, and we will be enjoying someone else very special that is accompanying him.  I'll be doing my happy dance as we get the house dressed to receive; dusting, straightening, windows polished, sheets washed, ironed and pillows fluffed.  Let's roll!

Have a wonderful weekend friends. Namaste

World Domination

Have I told you the story of ruthless domination? Years ago when our son was in middle school, the writing teacher assigned his class a lesson on describing their families.  Since ours is a wee bit tiny, being just the three of us, his material was a smidge limited.  He began with the usual of "we live here, this is what my house is like, I have two dogs that are Shelties named Zipper and Zoe. Then he wrote about his father.

My father is lots of fun, he is our cub scout leader and we go on many camping trips and get to canoe, build campfires and shoot shotguns on the range. He is a computer programmer and designs systems for big companies.  He loves to build Legos with me and take me to science fiction movies, and we are reading The Chronicles of Narnia together every night.  I love my Dad!!!

Now, here is what he might have said about his mother, but did not.

My mother is an awesome baker, she makes the best cookies in the world. She sews quilts, and works at the library's reference desk. She used to manage a bookstore and she loves to read.  She bought me two dogs since I don't have a brother or sister.  I love my Mom!!!

However, kids being what they are, this is what he actually wrote:
 My mother is a Ruthless House Dictator!!!

Apparently I ruled with an Iron Oven Mitt.

The teacher had stapled all the kid's bios to the bulletin board so that during parent teacher night we could read the collected works of all the kids.  When we arrived there was a cluster of parents laughing at one spot, and of course as we approached heads turned and the giggles were then directed at us.  Isn't it a wonder that our children grow to adulthood, without us needing group therapy?

What shall we do tonight Macaroni? Same thing
we do every night Raleigh, try to take over the world.

Worship Me

So it appears the simple device of placing a cat meme on the blog doubles my readership.  I'm not above such shameful manipulation and may continue to share the handsome kitty who adopted my son.  In that respect, we are a lot like ancient Egypt, where cats were worshipped and people wrote on walls.

Since discovering a meme generator I have had a lot of fun, my adult son lives in constant trepidation that I will overshare his life, or his cat's life, or just embarrass him as only a parent is able to do.  He did just earn the Pathfinder badge, rocking out that 1% of his service branch yet again.  Yup.  I'm proud.

Namaste

Make Time

Our daily lives can quickly fill with the minutia of necessary chores, along with the maintenance of our work lives.  The caretakers role for myself and the spousal unit was brief but challenging while our parents entered their illnesses before passing, and it was often near impossible to remember to nuture ourselves for the marathon we were running.

I love reading the weekly column, and listening to Krista Tippett on the radio, her writings "On Being", synch to my immediate needs with regularity.  Last week she had an essay by a writer who spoke to the need to find meaning and calm in daily ritual.  How can simple everyday acts speak to us to offer a sense of calm and introspection?

The act of making time for our art is a constant theme with my pottery and art friends, especially so for those still juggling work, and creating a volume of inventory for shows and sales.  Even at the hobby level it's a temptation to let stress overwhelm my better senses and forget to take enjoyment for the act of creation.

 I was disinvited to a holiday show that is one of my better sales, as the host's daughter has decided to make and sell soaps.  After a brief pity party for the loss of income, I decided to view this as an opportunity to enjoy being less stressed, and enjoy the gift of time to anticipate the holidays as the joyful moments of being with friends and activities.  Not having to pack my inventory, load the car with display shelving and truck across town for 4 long and frantic days gives me a sense of relief.  It's not easy for the ego to turn down the opportunity for a sale, it flatters both the wallet and is justification for creating work that people enjoy buying.  Being an introvert I enjoy selling through gift shops and galleries, they provide the venue, staff and advertising while I provide the soaps and pottery.  Being "up" for 10 hour days at a holiday sale can be exhausting when my arthritis flares and keeping up a smile when someone turns to her friend and proclaims about the pottery: "you know you could do that in your oven"!  Well, bless your heart.  You could if your oven will heat to 2400 degrees Fahrenheit.



The Chinese poet and philosopher Lao Tzu wrote on the art of pottery, saying, "we shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness within that holds whatever we want".

What is it that you want, that you can find in the emptiness within?

Namaste dear friends.

One Treat

Namaste

Another School Year

It seems that the beginning of the new school year is more of a New Years transition than the one celebrated in January.  New clothing is bought, and all the wonderful supplies for studying.  Books, notebooks, pens, rulers, backpacks.  Even us older potters clean out our totes and freshen up the tools of our trade.  I'm all washed and packed and ready for another year of instruction at my favorite art center.  This will be quite the transition, our little band of potters has been together 15 years, and half of us have decided to transition to an evening instructor who specializes in soda firing.  It's long been a love of mine, and being in the class allows the students to help with loading the kiln and studying the effects of placement on the pots glaze results.

It's been a hot and humid week and we've arrived at Labor Day Weekend a bit worse for wear,  the constant overcast has really put a lid over my mood.  I really am solar powered, and not seeing the sun or blue sky has a detrimental effect on my well being.  Here it is mid afternoon and so dark we must have the lights on in the house.  The soot from the western forest fires are the major cause, and day after day of afternoon rains.  My father used to grump that the sun would come out just in time to set in the evening - and I have a new appreciation for his own struggles with SAD from diminished light.

The Spousal Unit bought tickets to our favorite singer from our youth, Justin Hayward, who was in solo concert without his band mates, The Moody Blues.  We were so entranced with their music in our young adult years that we had a friend play Nights in White Satin on her flute at our wedding.  It wasn't "sacred music" and approved by the traditional organist, but somehow we snuck it into the service.  We adore this love ballad he wrote to the woman he would marry back in 1972, just two years before our own wedding.

While Justin didn't hit the high notes like he used to, after 50 years in the concert business he still has incredible vigor and his guitar playing brought the audience to their feet over and over again.  It was a wonderful night and I am resolved that the SU and I need to remind ourselves more frequently how important a part of well being music plays in our psyche.  The Moodies still tour, even at their ages of 69 for Justin, and mid 70s for the other mates!

We are off to vicariously enjoy the Appalachian Trail via the new Robert Redford movie, A Walk in the Woods.  The knees aren't cooperating with our bucket list dream of hiking it, between the SU and myself we have a combined 5 knee surgeries.  The moral is don't put off your dreams, get out and live them.

Namaste dear friends.

Eh?

 The week has not disappointed in the escalation of absurdity between the plethora of political candidates trying to outdo each other in outrageousness.  Our neighbor to the east, Wisconsin, has a governor running (his mouth) and raised the idea of a border wall to keep all those ruffians to the North on their side.  Sigh.

We here in Minnesota love our neighbors to the North, and to float such a ludicrous statement with no merit at all is, well, all I can say is Bless His Heart.

How do we benefit from Canada? Well they have some excellent comedians and actors, that's for sure.  Dan Aykroyd, Jim Carrey, Martin Short, Eugene Levy, John Candy, Ellen Page, James Cameron, Michael J. Fox, Rachael McAdams, Mike Meyers, Catherine O'Hara, Sandra Oh, Anna Paquin, Matthew Perry, Seth Rogan, and William Shatner.  Well I could go on and on, but you get the idea.  And who doesn't utter the benediction of "bless the Canadians and their cold fronts" when we receive a welcome break in summer heat.  And to be serious, they are a neighbor we can depend on, they have supported us in the various conflicts around the world.  They have our backs in military parlance.

We loved and embraced the skits of the Mackenzie Brothers, maybe because it hit so close to home.  We talk a lot like that, we dress a lot like that - let's be honest.  In a place as cold as ours half the year, fashion takes a real backseat to survival dressing.  Prance around without wool, flannel, and warm jackets and boots and you won't be around come Spring.

Frankly the image of millions of Canadians politely storming the border to cross our borders is pretty amusing.  I just hope they'll be equally generous to those of us who will be fleeing north with our survival bags should The Wall become a reality.  To our ill spoken neighbor to the East - Shove off ya hoser!

 


Hoser: (n) Canadian hockey derogatory term that is similar to the American "idiot" or "loser". It is derived from the pre-zamboni days, where the LOSING team would have to hose down the ice after the game.