More than half a dozen times today, I walked through the snow to get to the studio. Two months ago I still hadn't even ventured out to the studio yet. Each time I came and went from the studio, I felt stronger and more at peace today. The rhythm is starting to begin again.
Potters understand this... we make pots not because we suddenly feel an urge, but because that is what you do. Everyday there is something in the studio that demands your attention. It might be something as simple as cleaning boards and batts, or mopping the floor. It might be a day of trimming and decorating. Some days those days stretch out into nights.
Tonight was the first night in four months I had to go back out to the studio after dinner to deal with pots I had thrown earlier in the day. I still can't throw with the same stamina I had before surgery... but I CAN throw. Sure, it is uncomfortable and awkward, but each teabowl that has passed through my hands these past few days, has felt magical.
One of my best friends is putting together a fund raiser for my family. Having always been on the giving side of a fund raiser, this is a new feeling. I am uncertain how to react. At this point, all I know is that it makes me cry. Knowing that people out there care about my family's well being and want to ensure that they are okay... that just wracks me. So when Mary Ellen Salmon offered to organize this fund raiser to be held at the Rongovian Embassy here in Trumansburg, I was (and am) shocked. So far Mary Ellen has had contributions from many of the artists who are represented in her gallery or from the Ithaca Art Trail. My hope is to be able to donate a few pots to the auction. The first pots of a new year, of a new life.