Saturday, March 26, 2016
march studio scenes// confession
Honesty is crucial. Whether we make it, show it, write it down or say it out loud, it is essential to dwell in a place of honesty in order to be the truest version of ourselves. And truth may not always be pretty. Or happy. Or even balanced. But transitioning through a heap of different emotions brought forward over the course of various stages in our lives it is essential to embrace it all with honesty, and observe it, rather than becoming an active participant.
A couple of weeks ago, I met up with my best friend for lunch. We were strolling the streets aimlessly, chatting time away. We have the gift of bouncing between silly and deep subjects seamlessly, so no discussion has ever become awkward for us. She is my person. Out of nowhere, in the middle of a random conversation I looked at her and said "I am not sure, if this is really what I want to continue on doing!", to which came the rather predictable answer of any best friend in the world: "Are you entirely out of your senses?". She is one of the few amazing blessings in my life who always supported me at my best as well as at my worst, without feeling the urge to drown me in caring advice, because she knows better, and most of all because she knows me better than that!
It was not a thought that I had premeditated. It was just a thought. A whisper that suddenly appeared and hurtled into air making a sound. I am not even sure what it means. What it refers to.
I have been witnessing a change to my workdays for a quite a while now. And when I open up the door of my kiln, I just stand and unload. I don't jump. And I don't dance. I used to. Exultantly. My work is still honest, though. It tells the story. My story. It projects feelings, highs, lows and the in-between. And the beauty of it all is, my truth changes and I am very grateful for having a form of expression through which I can therapeutically document it all. At times loud and clear, at other times more silently, absently even.
For now I have been guided to ground myself, both internally as well as externally, by digging my hands deep into a different, more forgiving clay body. The type that allows for a lot of maneuvering, twisting, turning, pinching, building. What will become of it, I do not yet know. But it feels right. And true. And real.
It is so easy to rely on our past convictions, returning always to some box of knowledge filled with what we've learned, experienced and gathered. But in an internal world (a spiritual world), which is continuously changing, evolving and progressing on its own special journey, feeling the need to move forward is inevitable and surrendering to the unknown becomes the only possible path to wander.