they say:
“As Above,
So Below”
A mystical teaching and a horror movie ?
it is Absurd
how far away You seem,
and yet we Abound in such Abundance.
made in the image,
we create –
we are obsessive makers,
like breath and life we pour forth.
will anyone want what i make?
like breath and life,
she just purrs forth.
creating community and sharing love.
What is rejection? What is acceptance?
none of it matters —
Luck beckons us.
as we beckon Love.
i dug a hole
and place the small bundle in.
“Open the gate! “
had been the cry-
“Come quick!”
and there, clasped ever so gently to his breast,
nestled in his garden gloved hands,
was a small finch.
“He was on the sidewalk, just there in the middle of the sidewalk”
Heat lamps were lit,
droppers were filled and prayers were said.
and in the morning light, still wings and heart
told us of a newly minted angel…
one who had come and reminded us of our mortality and our compassion.
Sometimes,
Hospice is the best grace you can give.
lining the metal shelves of the studio amid the pinecones and glaze pots,
the clay bins and pot stilts are kiln posts –
(hollow fire brick to rest the shelves on in the kiln-)
all heights so as not to inhibit creativity –
stacked like a small city,
they wait.
who knew they were waiting for tenants?
We never know what we are building – or who will move in!
don’t be surprised –
if it is wasps.
A friend of mine grows sunflowers that reach the sky,
covered now in glorious yellow!
at nightfall, each head still filled with bees-
pollen drunk and frozen – the temperature is dropping,
far from home with no designated driver the bees cling-
She rescues them with her warm care –
and in the morning they fly home
renewed.
wasps eat mosquitoes, bees make honey.
Whether our work is seasonal or constant,
we all are needed, and we all need a warm home.
we never truly know what we build or grow,
so try to do it with kindness.
Yesterday was all tornadoes and water spouts,
inside and out –
and then came the chill.
This morning when i went to the kiln room,
there in the rafters were the wise ones –
safely tucked,
warm and dry
singing and swinging.
You are never alone.
look!!!
a secret passage!
Enter a door – exit a drawer!
There are secret passages everywhere –
we enter one door and everything is dark and scary –
but if we are willing to explore
we may just find we come out on top!
i am trying to load a kiln –
and wait – who are you?
You are not mythic creatures of fire!
nor are you real creatures with mythic origins –
neither dragons nor salamanders
nor you, little lizard friends
can not survive
the inferno
that
clay
does.
there is a myth that we humans have feet of clay –
perhaps that explains the fires we must walk through.
once upon a time
there was a gingham dog and a calico cat,
rumor has it there was a terrible spat.
but don’t believe the rumors you hear –
for calico comfort is very dear –
and far from eating up a pup –
on rice pudding she would rather sup.
and when she has dined her fill,
to purr me to sleep is her will.
Ministry of Animals 