35th Anniversary Celebration: #19 in a Series of 35: Missing Clay

There are two creative passions in my life: writing and clay.
I always wrote, since I could hold a pencil.  I fell in love with clay slowly.  You could say I fell reluctantly.
I was already enmeshed in making beads and writing my memoir and journaling and poetry.  When I married John, fifteen years ago, I didn’t consider how much my life would change.
I moved my four children to Ellison Bay.  I gave up dairy farming.  What more would or could change?  What more could I absorb?
It turns out, clay dust sifts into your skin cells, slowly, and eventually, because I was selling pottery, I learned.
Soon, I had opinions, questions and the feel of clay started calling me into the studio.
Now, I dream images, ideas.  Now I put myself to sleep thinking about what to say about my work with clay.
Words and clay are both elemental.  I can bypass my brain with clay.  It’s harder with words.  I can get into something I was unaware of.
I love working with it.
This weekend I will get to work with my tiles.  The tiles I started weeks ago.
I am so excited.  Having a full time job has cut into my creative urges.  And it’s been making me very sad.  One side effect of this job to keep our heads afloat is that mine is sinking.
This weekend will help keep me alive.

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