Slow Steps

 Porcelain platters in the greenware stage 

Porcelain platters in the greenware stage 

 

Well, I never intended for MONTHS to go by without posting, but here we are.  It's been a challenging time.  I seem to have misplaced my mojo and although I've searched for it high and low, it's still hiding.  But life is like that at times, and I am learning to accept things as they are far more than I ever have been able before.  Because if life's taught me one thing, the only way to it is through it.  

Our little house in Italy continues to be a project - we didn't manage to get it completed this summer.  There is still work to be done - punctuated by the fact that I had to leave the project with our belongings inside but with no door or windows and return to Germany.  We accepted the fact that there was no way to complete the project at this point and let the idea of a deadline in 2017 go.  We'll go down in spring together and knock off the remaining to-do list and get the place livable. 

This process has taught me something important.  I realize that I no longer have the desire or the intestinal fortitude - or the gumption - to do this type of thing anymore.  It's been a hard lesson to learn.  I believe that I had to take this one on to internalize how important it is that I don't push myself so hard anymore - and the difficulties we've encountered have been the milestones toward learning that lesson.  

It was a tough year for me, one where I was forced to listen to what was really going on inside of myself and how I want to carry on from here.   It's my 60th year, this one, and it's not lost on me that I am reckoning with many of the aftershocks of the changes we've gone through over the last two decades. The monstrous projects, the homesteading in foreign countries, the cultural shifts, the language learning, the getting older.  It all came to roost this year, breaking me into teeny pieces to once again look at and reassemble.  Taking on too much has been a theme in life for me, as it is for so many women.  But age and experience are slowing me down.  I want to make room in life for new possibilities that aren't mountains to scale, but rather soft hills and rivers to savor. 

I've taken stock of what I want and what we need.  I have returned to my studio and have rededicated myself to the art of making simple pots.  This spring, I will plant a garden.  I will write here. I will help my husband with his wine business.  Those are the things I know for sure.  I am trying - the best I can - to take it day by day.  Not to look too much into a future which feels so uncertain to me.  I know, intuitively, I need to ground myself in real things that heal me and heal the earth around me. More, right now, I cannot do.

 So I ask you to join me on this step by step, slow gentle journey, hands in the earth, face in the sun.  I have missed writing for you.  I hope you will still want to read my words as I very much want to feel and hear your response to it. 

There is only so much time.  And only so much energy.  Let's be gentle, continue forward, and take stock of all the good around us.