The Power of Mud

 

There’s one thing that’s helping me stay sane right now. 

Mud. 

Yup, mud.

Some people call it clay. I buy mine from a local clay company. But the components of clay are found in nature.  According to Wikipedia, “It’s a natural product of the erosion of igneous rocks like granite and feldspar. It breaks down over millions of years into fine particles which collect in riverbeds, lake basins and coastal areas, where they are found as sedimentary deposits.”

So, yeah. It’s mud that’s been washed by rain and eroded by rocks. And it’s now in my studio in a nice, neat plastic bag. And I love opening the bag and slicing off a thick slab of it. Slapping it down, folding it over and kneading it into a ball or rolling it into a slab on my canvas covered board. 

Then the fun begins.

My hands get muddy. My mind climbs into the backseat. And my soul sighs. I can make so many things from one chunk of mud. 

A vase. 

A face. 

A bowl. 

A bird. 

A leaf platter.

These are finished pieces. Piece by piece, they’re rolled and stamped and shaped and painted and dried very slowly. But they all started out as a chunk of mud. So fun. 

Then the work of finishing. 

Today, I did a part of the process that’s my least favorite: glazing.  Why is it my least favorite? I think it’s because it’s all about chemicals and precision: waxing, mixing, testing for the right consistency, dipping, catching drips and wiping. Then there’s the clean up. Ugh. 

There’s also a lot of set up and clean up involved because my studio is inside my house. I have to cover the tables and floor, bring in buckets of water and towels and sponges. It’s work. 

Mud, madness, and sanity. 

Yes, it’s work. But it’s also play. Bringing out my childhood love of playing in the woods in the dirt. And right now, with all the dirt and scandal, the most powerful thing I can do for myself is play in the mud. 

Try it. It might help. And you might find playing in the dirt is more fun than reading about it. 

 

Seeing from the Inside Out

I don’t know where to start writing today. There’s just so much out there right now, my mind and inbox overflows. And one thing I don’t 

want to do is add more fuel to the fire or try to wash it all away. It’s maddening and overwhelming and sad. 

I’m aware. I’m not sticking my head in the sand. I’m just trying to find my own balance. And the only thing that balances it all out for me right now is beauty and art. So I take my walks around the lake and listen to the geese. Watch the ducks swim past me. And, if I’m lucky snatch a glimpse of a heron. 

At home, I crochet because the movement of my fingers in and around yarn soothes my soul. Right now, I’m crocheting red ‘resistance’ hats. Learning to make a tassel was a new process but I did figure it out, finally. The next hat will be better. 

And I doodle and paint and play with clay. This week, when it all got too much, I took out my black pen and let it swirl up, down and around. Then I got out my watercolor pencils and colored the sections in like a coloring book. Another day, I brushed water into each section. Another day, I went over my black lines with more black. It’s nothing. It’s just a doodle. But it gave my mind and soul a safe place to meander for a while. 

Another day, I took out some clay pieces that needed the next step: color. I made these pieces in the last 6 months or so with no agenda in mind. I’ve never made anything like this before. They’re not functional clay pieces. They have no fancy titles or artsy ideas. Maybe I could call them clay doodles? I don’t know. What I do know is they needed color but I wasn’t sure which colors. Again, I had no plan. I just got out my colored underglazes and started painting. 

They will need a clear glaze and firing to be finished. But that’s ok, I think the slow process isn’t just important to the clay.

 It’s important for me, for my mind and my body and my soul. 

To quiet. To rest. To see from the inside out for a change. 

Good

 

Ok. In my last piece the title was, ‘Evil’. There is evil out there, I had to write about it. And I stand by it. 

But.

There is also the ‘Good’. And I think right now, I have to see it and write about it and put it out there because I need the balance just as much right now. I think we all do. 

We need to believe in the Good. 

We need to see the good in the people around us. The good in our family, our friends, our neighbors. Even in our parks, our streets, our schools, our hospitals, our libraries. 

There is a lot of good out there right now. 

Here’s some more on a personal level: my husband was helped by EMT’s, doctors, nurses, lab techs and volunteers. He is well and home and fine, thanks to all of these people. I was helped by family and neighbors and friends who ran errands, walked my dog, cleaned my kitchen, brought us dinner, sparkling water, soup, Kleenex and warm cranberry cake. 

Good people live all around us. All the time. 

They share. They ask how you’re doing and listen. They hold the door open for you.  

They protest. Make signs. Bring wet wipes and food. 

And help you survive the bad. 

They are the good. 

We need to see the good right now. 

So we can all survive the bad. 

Evil

 

I sit here with the sunshine streaming in behind me and I wonder, why? 

And yet, I know the answers: power and greed breed evil. 

Evil that kills without shame and steals without guilt. 

But what is almost unbearable is the cost: mothers and fathers and children killed. 

I haven’t written about what’s happening in our country this way because I couldn’t find the right words. While others did and I applauded them, I felt numb. 

I know overwhelm when I feel it. I’ve been there before: COVID, layoffs, illness and major surgery, an ambulance ride to the hospital, my husband recovering from RSV. 

But this, what’s going on in our country is more than I can take right now. Go ahead and call me a coward, but right now, this is the best I can do. Now to be fair, I have made signs and protested and marched. I’d write my representatives but in the emails they send, all they want from me is money. This makes me mad, too.

Excuse me, dear Senator or Congressman, you are making more than me and from my tax dollars, too. How dare you ask me for money to do the job I am paying you to do!

Sunshine, peace and coffee cake. 

Is that too much to ask? Really?? I don’t have grand goals. I just want a few things from life and from my country. And most of it doesn’t cost anyone a dime. 

Warmth and light from the sun in the sky. Maybe a few daffodils along the way. 

Soft voices and warm hearts, peace, health and safety for myself, my husband, my grandchildren and my sweet doggie.

Sweetness and cinnamon filling the house with warmth and coffee cake. 

Living a life with simple joys and safety and gratitude. And a little art. 

But YOU, you know who YOU are: take your billions, pay your taxes, do your time. 

Your evil abuses will be remembered forever. 

A stain that no amount of money or gilded arch can ever wash away. 

But the brave and the courageous and the true people, will be celebrated long after you are gone. 

And, you will be gone. 

Silent Heroes

Silence. All around me right now, I hear the quiet of my dog stretched out on the rug. The breaths in and out as my husband sleeps in the chair. The fake fire flames quietly dancing in the light. The sun filling the space behind me.  

It is a comfort, this silence. 

In our world filled with chants and gun fire, this silence feels blessed. Like a pause before the next shocking burst of evil. Evil that must be stopped at all costs. I have marched many times in my life for peace and equal rights. I thought we’d all won. I am so mad and sad to see other’s fears kill innocent loving people. 

It is grace, this life.

I sit here heartbroken and hopeful. Terrified and tenderly listening to life with gratefulness. My husband is alive and recovering. A few weeks ago, I was sitting on the floor, begging him to open his eyes. Tapping his face in desperation while I dialed 911. 

He was just making breakfast. I was pouring juice when I felt a nudge, a tingling, an alarm. I looked up and his face was losing color as he stirred the eggs. I went over, put my hands on his upper arms and guided him down. Down to the floor, where he slumped. 

It is strength, this breath. 

They came in with calm strength and went straight to work. Oxygen brought breath back. Monitors checked the beating heart. A woman in uniform asked what happened while others revived him and asked him questions. 

Soon, we were on our way to the hospital. They talked to him in the back. I could hear him respond. They took him to emergency. I was told to go to the waiting room. Soon we were together again in a small room with beeping machines. 

It is relief, this help. 

Of course, there were tests and waiting. But he was awake, talking and getting fluids. He tested positive for RSV, this year’s flu. They found a ‘blip’ on his heart monitor and they wanted to keep him and check it out. So he stayed overnight.

I went home alone. But we texted. He had a good salmon dinner. I managed terrible microwaved eggs and cheese. I cried tears of relief. 

It is still scary, this recovery. 

But we are ok. He eats and reads and walks around the house. Each day picking up the pace and doing stairs. I take his blood pressure and he has sent in his heart monitor. He’s been to his PCP and all is going as expected when you have this flu. 

I am the one who cooks now. We’ve traded off on this task over the years due to work schedules. He’s a much better breakfast cook than I am, but I’m learning. Last year, he had to do it all for me and now, I do it all for him. We’ve always shared the home turf equally.  

It is horrible, this violence all around us. 

But it is it also wonderful, this help from strangers. 

These dedicated men and women who save lives everyday. They are the true heroes. They are true Americans. They are the ones who show us who we truly are with their compassion, courage and strength.