Ceramics came into my life the way the bird divinations had a year earlier — suddenly, mysteriously, as a coping mechanism for the confusions and cataclysms of living. I was reeling from a shattering collision with one of life's most banal and brutal truths — that broken people break people — and I needed to make, to do the work of unbreaking, in order to feel whole again; I needed something to anchor me to the ongoingness of being alive, to the plasticity of being necessary for turning trauma into self-transcendence. A daily creative practice is a consecration of the indestructible in us and a technology for trusting time.
A daily creative practice is a consecration of the indestructible in us and a technology for trusting time. Overcome by the need to make something breakable that nonetheless holds, I started taking weekly pottery lessons with the most wonderful teacher.