There's a fine edge to new grief, it severs nerves, disconnects reality--there's mercy in a sharp blade. Only with time, as the edge wears, does the real ache begin. --Christopher Moore
The last two years have been tough ones. I had such high hopes for 2015 and still do, but the challenges have begun. My husband is once again out of a job--no funding for the start up company where he was employed. Another casualty of falling gas prices. Add to that a series of rejects for my group C.L.A.W. (Crossing the Line: Artist at Work) and personally. Groups asking prices for teaching and lectures only to go silent. I could add more to the list but you get my drift. I started feeling particularly stressed until a few days ago when I finally yelled aloud, "okay, universe uncle!" I felt a certain calm. I have spent time writing in my journal and realized that maybe I could recognize my way out of past patterns rather than repeat my way out. I am back to being mindful and I am back in my studio! And while March came in like a lion and the ground is still covered with snow with no sign of spring, I feel hopeful.
As with so many times in my life, serendipity has played its part. In my sculpture class, we are learning about the Japanese practice called kintsugi, which means "golden journey" in Japanese. Kintsugi is the art of fixing broken ceramics with a lacquer resin make to look like solid gold. The trues makes us question the complexity of aesthetics. How can something that was broken be more precious, more beautiful? And yet, the ordinary becomes extraordinary. So this made me think, can I envision myself like a kintsugi vessel, make precious by my brokenness? I'm going for the gold!