What a fabulous post. Makes me want to get my hands on some clay now… and strangely enough, I met a potter who also teaches only last week… I must sign up 😊
I adore this image of the oval and the separation of the creation that already existed in the clay that you’re setting free and watching over. I love that this is how you write about hospice “instead of what it was like to see him there.” I’m so grateful you’re here.
You always remind me that life is full of possibilites, Abigail. Thank you.
The way you let the clay decide what it's going to be reminds me of when I helped out in the art department of a psychiatric hospital when I was 18. I just yesterday found a diary note from that time, coincidentally: 'I was getting Yvonne to make shapes in Plasticine by squashing the stuff about in her hands and then seeing if she could see any sort of recognisable shape in her random squashing. She’d created a longish oblong and when I asked her if she could think of anything it reminded her of, she amazed me by laughing and saying, “It looks like a jolly big stiff to me!”'
A. BI. GAIL. You are a rock star. An earthen lump of clay star. You found the secret and you keep sharing it. We keep missing it. You keep forgetting. And then remembering. But I am so grateful to be in the circle of the forgetting and remembering, the making and shaping, the seeing the way it is, all the reasons we were sent here (to this planet, to this time, with wings that don't fly but we keep thinking they might cause once they did, will again).
Abby, this is wondrous and powerful; perfect. Be on the lookout for my questions for you for a [B]old Woman Q&A! That image of you pulling up your chair to the radiator to watch your clay pieces dry, and picking them up to check… ! 🔥🔥
Kelly, thank you. I am so glad. It saved me too. Making something doesn't change what happens, but is sure can get us through hard times. But you already know that.
"I am in love with possibility . . ." That's how I feel about writing, Abigail. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph opens out new places, faces, thoughts. Thank you for this--always look forward to your posts.
I love that line also, about possibility. It made me think about children, and how they can imbue that idea. I also love love the end, checking on your young creations as they emerge.
Beautiful: "This is how I write about Hospice instead of what it was like to see him there." Yes.
I love this process and affinity you have with and for the clay.
Thank you. Clay is a lot of interesting fun.
What a fabulous post. Makes me want to get my hands on some clay now… and strangely enough, I met a potter who also teaches only last week… I must sign up 😊
You won't regret it. My makings are not good, but boy, it is thrilling fun.
Thank you.
"I am in love with possibility, the very opposite of death." I love that line!
Perfect. Thank you, Abby.
Thank you, Bar. So glad you like it.
I love this. Thank you.
Thank you very much.
You are the gift that keeps on giving. Thank you.
Thank you, Debra. So very nice of you.
Abigail. Truly, from start to finish, thank you for taking me on this journey. Literal. Metaphorical. Magical.
Thank you. I'm so glad you liked it. I know I am totally seduced by clay, and so glad that you felt that too. Thanks again.
I adore this image of the oval and the separation of the creation that already existed in the clay that you’re setting free and watching over. I love that this is how you write about hospice “instead of what it was like to see him there.” I’m so grateful you’re here.
Thank you, Holly. Happy and grateful for your words.
So much love and tenderness here. Thank you. Beautiful writing.
Thank you. I'm so glad and grateful for your words.
You always remind me that life is full of possibilites, Abigail. Thank you.
The way you let the clay decide what it's going to be reminds me of when I helped out in the art department of a psychiatric hospital when I was 18. I just yesterday found a diary note from that time, coincidentally: 'I was getting Yvonne to make shapes in Plasticine by squashing the stuff about in her hands and then seeing if she could see any sort of recognisable shape in her random squashing. She’d created a longish oblong and when I asked her if she could think of anything it reminded her of, she amazed me by laughing and saying, “It looks like a jolly big stiff to me!”'
A. BI. GAIL. You are a rock star. An earthen lump of clay star. You found the secret and you keep sharing it. We keep missing it. You keep forgetting. And then remembering. But I am so grateful to be in the circle of the forgetting and remembering, the making and shaping, the seeing the way it is, all the reasons we were sent here (to this planet, to this time, with wings that don't fly but we keep thinking they might cause once they did, will again).
Abby, this is wondrous and powerful; perfect. Be on the lookout for my questions for you for a [B]old Woman Q&A! That image of you pulling up your chair to the radiator to watch your clay pieces dry, and picking them up to check… ! 🔥🔥
Will look forward to that questionnaire very much!!
Abigail, this passion, this making saves me.
Kelly, thank you. I am so glad. It saved me too. Making something doesn't change what happens, but is sure can get us through hard times. But you already know that.
this:"They are separating from me, turning into themselves." I love this.
"I am in love with possibility . . ." That's how I feel about writing, Abigail. Every word, every sentence, every paragraph opens out new places, faces, thoughts. Thank you for this--always look forward to your posts.
I love that line also, about possibility. It made me think about children, and how they can imbue that idea. I also love love the end, checking on your young creations as they emerge.