This week couldn't be more different from last week. Last week, I was working alongside many people setting up a major show, greeting hundreds of visitors, explaining a non-profit project, talking about my work and horsehair raku. This week, I've run errands, paid bills, folded laundry, cleaned my house including my studio, watched TV and stared at the sky.
And I love that. The contrast of fast and slow, loud and quiet, crowded and solitary.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not a change junkie. I don't want a roller coaster life at all. I like my life, my work, and my routines. But I also know that routines can easily become ruts. Having a completely different week in a different place with different people is as nourishing as a well balanced diet.
With that in mind, I'm embracing this week's diet of mindlessness.
I'm sitting here on the window seat watching the sky. I see brilliant cobalt blue peeking out of the puffy white clouds. I watch the white clouds turn gray and darken and crowd out the blue. I hear the rain and hail clatter against the window as my cat slinks under the futon. I'm eating clementines and drinking water and listening to my sweet dog, Jilly, snore.
After working for months getting ready for the show and then, working a week at it, I need a weekend. I don't want to go out or throw or glaze or fire anything. Not yet anyway.
I just need a few days staring at the trees bending in the wind against the spring sky.