Day 3:
Megan, "What makes you happy"?
This question is a clump of clay, slabbed onto my pottery wheel.
The art professor passionately encourages us; "Let your inner artist speak and love leave rivets in the clay. Create that which makes you happy"
I stare blankly at the clay. I move to turn on the pottery wheel, in hopes that a clump of spinning clay will provide me with a little direction. But after a few rotations, I realised, happiness wasn't going to form itself.
I take a deep breath, a little wiggle in my seat while adjusting my posture. I close my eyes and my fingers find the smooth surface of the clay.
My first instinct is to remain in this moment because one thing that makes me happy, is how intensely a moment can feel when we allow it to subsume time. I feel my fingers glide along the clay and small rivets starting to form. The clay is cold as are the tips of my fingers. Small splashes of clay have managed to work their way up to my wrists, where they remain as dry, stiff spots. The surface is smooth and delicate. I can feel the fragility of the clay possess my fingers as they dig deeper into the spinning earth.
I sit forming and reforming as my inner artist changes tunes. She knows just as well I do, that part of what makes me happy is birth of an idea born out of play. As my fingers make markings in the clay, my mind wanders, and I am captivated by a thought. Ideas a born and morph in the clay. How beautiful is life, that it evolves in the same way.
An abrupt noise in the background brings me out of my daydream. My gaze scans the room, catching glimpses of other peoples happiness. The sight of multiple happinesses makes me look twice at my own. My own version of happy is both created and destroyed by the comparison. I clap the clay between my hands like a deflated balloon. How crippling it is to have the world at my fingertips and abundant opportunities in sight.
Photo Credit: Brian
The way that words can paint pictures and sing melodies.
Love. Love. Love.
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