One thing I notice, when I’ve got my hands in, on, or around clay there are no questions or answers. I’m in the moment.
There is no good clay day or bad. Just clay. And when my hands are moving, my mind is not.
(Ok, this was a 'mistake' that wound up being a fun spoon holder)
There is a stillness that sneaks in and wraps itself around my monkey mind like a soft, warm blanket.
There is peace inside. Outside there is rolling, pinching, pulling and centering.
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