A New Season

 

It’s not officially Fall, but it feels like it. The breeze is cool. There are clouds in the sky and the temperatures are comfortable, finally. Taking a deep breath in and out, I’m savoring the change.  

It’s been a long, very hot summer and I’m glad to be done with it.

I was overwhelmed with life’s unexpected changes. My husband was laid off. I lost my medical coverage as a result and it took 6 months of bureaucratic nightmares for me to finally get healthcare coverage. All of this caused a lot of anxiety: sleepless nights, weight loss, emotional turmoil. I needed to find some ways to cope with it all. 

So in June, I declared I was taking the summer off. I needed a break physically and emotionally. I read a lot of silly romance novels and mysteries with my feet up resting and repairing my knee. And I did the 3 C’s: clay, crochet and cleaning as much as the very hot weather would allow. 

Dogs, cats, bunnies and fairies. Oh my. 

I didn’t have a plan. I just knew that wedging, rolling and throwing clay helped a little. Even when I was overwhelmed and angry, I made myself put my hands in clay. In the studio, I rolled out cats, dogs, bunnies and little fairies. I let the clay lead me into a safe space away from the stress and fear. 

And these small sculptures just started to appear and multiply. I’ve never made anything like them. But they made me smile and that was enough. So I just kept making them and a few months later, I have dozens. Almost enough to fill my kiln!

Welcoming new feelings and a new season. 

Today, it’s cloudy with a light, cool breeze. Just the right weather to fire up my kiln. It’s been so long since I’ve loaded it up and the biggest surprise was it was filled with new work! Dozens of little animals, some bowls and little plates I made with my granddaughter too. 

My anxiety is easing. The cooler weather is giving me an appetite again. We’re getting over the sadness and shock of our unexpected loss and life change. And embracing a new kind of life we’re both creating together. 

Sometimes life throws you into the unknown 

Floundering in the dark and fear

But then, slowly, the light gets in

A new season gives way to new life

Fall into it. 

Flow

I love the Oregon coast. I haven’t been there in over 4 years. In fact, I haven’t been anywhere, really in two years. I’ve walked my beloved park. Visited local farms and wineries. Gone grocery shopping. But I haven’t really taken a trip or a vacation. 

I know I’m not alone. Covid, the Delta variant have kept us all close to home, worried and fearful. Add a death in the family and I needed to retreat or find a retreat to soothe my soul, breathe in deeper and let out all the surrounding sorrow. 

Waves

Just watching the waves move in and out. Foaming and folding and glistening. I could feel a deep calm rolling over me. The sound of the surf quieted my mind. The push and pull inside me gave itself over to the ocean. 

Gazing at the sun moving downward towards the ocean brought up so many feelings. Hope. Sadness. Love. Fear. Connection. Loneliness. Support. And joy. Yes, as the sun slowly lowered,    I could feel my soul filling up with warmth. 

Play

Taking my sweet doggy to the beach is always fun. But because he was trained from puppyhood to be a guide dog, he was always on a leash. This is his comfort zone. Ok, I’ll admit, mine too. We found a small, inlet beach area with only a few people. And I decided, it was time to take the chance. 

He loved it! He splashed. Barked. Met another dog. He ran back and forth between my husband and I playing monkey in the middle. He got lots of treats each time he ran to us. I was so excited to see him sniff the waves and run. Joyously playing. 

Mud

Art making is my therapy. I need to put my hands in clay to clean the mud off my heart and soul. This last week, I made a decision. Even though my kitchen is still a mess, I needed to make a mess with clay to feel better. 

So I threw. Even if these bowls don’t turn out, it doesn’t matter. Even if they sit on my studio shelf and dry and crack and never get glazed, it’s ok. Because just the act of wedging, throwing, pulling and shaping the clay is an act of hope. An act of balancing then with now. Centering me. And allowing the future to flow.