Sunday, August 18, 2013
This morning as I was listening to Pandora, Piano Solo Radio, which plays mostly works of a sacred nature. I heard, ďHave Thine Own Way LordĒ You know, the one about God being the potter and I am the clay?
Lots of things about our journey in life can be considered while thinking about the words to this song.
I used to make pottery, the pieces you throw on the wheel and fire and glaze in the kiln. I love the process of doing that. It has been 7 years now since I was taking lessons and practicing this wonderful craft.
I made some not so wonderful pieces and many that were quite decent, I have never thrown a single piece away. I was told I was quick to learn and good at it. The expense kept me from continuing. I gave away a few of my better pieces, and kept even more, though to my eyes and touch, I knew every flaw. I was critical of my work, at least I was when I first made these pieces. As the years have passed, each one has become precious and even perfect in my sight. I have learned that though each one has different thicknesses (something professional potters have to be very careful of) and they have differing imperfections, I really no longer look at those. I donít even see them. I love them just the way they are. I love holding them and looking at them. I appreciate the work that I had put into each one. They are perfect just the way they are. I even love the chunkier ones.
As I was thinking about these things, I was simultaneously making parallels in my mind about loving and accepting my bodyís imperfections. Am I fond of it? Do I look at all the work that has gone into making it what it is today? It is strong, healthy and maybe still a little chunky. Do I treasure it? Why would I worry what others think or say about my size, like I used to worry about othersí opinions about my pottery? I like the pottery, which is what really matters, imperfections and all. My body is something that is becoming more precious to me as time goes on and I see a purpose for it.
Our bodies are a vessel. They are containers made for a purpose: to hold or carry something. I have an art studio. In my studio, on the tables, I have many pots Iíve made in assorted shapes and sizes. Each one contains something different. One has a set of markers, others have other types of markers. A couple of them hold paintbrushes. Yet another has pencils and scissors. Some hold balls of yarn. I like them for their individuality. The hard work and thought I put into each one makes it special. I am no longer embarrassed of them, because I see their value. See the parallels?
Keep working hard and love the process, as I loved the process of making pottery. Admire and value the results you are getting. Be proud of your vessel. And donít forget you probably love the individuality of each person you know, without seeing them as a body, but as another human.