In the western society that I live in there is generally a
constant need in people to have what others have, even if it is not needed.
A bigger house.
A better car.
A trip overseas.
The advertising agencies latch on to this element of desire
and work at increasing peoples lust for things,
making them believe that life would be better with more stuff
perhaps even unthinkable to be without it.
I try to stay mindful of this mind set,
although I have caught myself getting hooked into it at times.
Mostly I just long for the simple life…
making art, gardening and enjoying grand children.
A few weeks ago Peter Rushforths property went on the market.
I adore this man/potter , his wife and their life style .
My first thought was how sad that he had been forced to move from
his little haven and how I wished I had been to visit him more.
Then the thought of who would buy this very special place
and would they appreiciate what it was and had been?
A passion to contemplate moveing swept over me,
driven by a desire to absorb the wonders of the peaceful
and artistic life he had made for himself in the upper mountains.
Think of the kilns and the studio and the gallery space!
I NEED TO GO AND LOOK AT IT!!!
It was great to go and pay homage to
this place of deep creativity and the simple life of a master craftsman.
I said my farewells to what it had been for so many years
but I also knew that it was not my place.
I put my desires away and embraced my own life again.
My daughter looked at our flowering cherry and said
"that tree is my childhood"
Looking around I reminded myself
of my mums ashes are under a magnolia
that flowered for the first time this year.
The orchids from her garden are starting to look like
they are at home and would never grow further up the mountains.
My dads ashes under the roses need my attention.
Here my husband can walk to work,
the kids can easily catch the train home
and my grandchildren love to play at our house.
I love my studio.
I am happy here and I plan to enjoy my own green grass.
(…..but a wood fired kiln does still lurk in my secret desire pocket….)
It seems to me that we can't be the people we admire.
I think it is best to rejoice in having known them,
be inspired by them, then get on with being ourselves.
I had the same sence when my mum died.
She had spent so many hours in her garden
it was her life and it was so hard to sell it
to someone who may just pull it all up and put down a lawn.
(Which they did!)
But then I realised that a home is a very individual environment
and it grows into the shape of its owner,
somewhat like a pot shows the marks of its maker.
The process of making that space is the important thing.
TheTHING itself is just the outcome
and will change with who ever lives there.
So I have planted another cherry tree
and continue to plan for a wood kiln.