How many thoughts are in a pot?
Recently, a non-parent described parents to me as “obsessed with their kids.” The word struck me as judgemental, so it took a beat to process. I gently explained that it’s not obsession; it’s responsibility for me. I have the responsibility to assess my children’s needs. The world is increasingly complex, and I can see their developmental paths more clearly than anyone else. It’s my job to provide explorations so they can be better siblings, citizens, pupils, and athletes; the list goes on and on. I don’t do the work for them, and I don’t take away the obstacles. They must learn to navigate. Uphills and bumps are good for them. But what’s not healthy—for any of us—are adults who don’t take responsibility and don’t teach their children how to take responsibility. Those who level the uphills and bumps are making it more difficult for the rest of us to raise conscientious, kind humans.
But what does this have to do with clay pots?
I process life by working in clay. For me, throwing and carving are the most therapeutic clay work. Potters usually suspend their breath when throwing, but I slowly inhale into my heart center as I pull and exhale, forming the vessel that’s to come. It becomes a meditative practice. My life wouldn’t work without clay.
The considerations of motherhood I mentioned above are a fraction of what I processed while making these pots. The better question is, how many thoughts went through my mind while throwing these pots? It’s innumerable.
These pots are filled with thoughts of raising kind humans who will contribute to the greater good.
It's been a productive throwing session when I finish in tears of release. My mind has been so full the past few weeks as I dig into my art and navigate complexities that they were welcomed. As I was wiping my hands, freeing them from the drying clay, these pot-shaped words came into my mind.
How many thoughts
are in a pot?
Well, the wobbly
ones, more, for sure.
My hopes and dreams for them. The
outrage for the unknown injustices
against them. But, above all,
my love. The thoughts never stop. I’m
their main advocate. I can
see their paths, their challenges,
their brightness. Would
these pots be as big
if they weren’t here?
Happy Tuesday, friends!