Hope that comes in the form of a mug.
I am what they call a seeker. A see-er. My inner vision is what drives me to action. It is about inspiring others by transmitting my triumphs through ceramics and blogs to my audience.
Recently, at school, the topics I have been blogging about have been under direct scrutiny. I was asked to find some acceptance and focus on my light and happiness.
I spent most of the week processing my instructor’s comments. I was angry that the work I did wasn’t good enough.
On Thursday, I had my final presentation in ceramics. I was pulsating with anger most of that morning. I arrived at school completely shut down emotionally. I found acceptance that I might get an “F” for what I was about to say. I was unwilling to conform but I wanted to remain respectful and not reactive. I spoke from my heart.
As I recall, I said something like this:
“I believe everyone struggles in their own way with life. I don’t think that I necessarily struggle more than others. I do, however, openly talk about my experiences. That’s my strength. It is an act of courage, not a plea for sympathy. ”
Throughout the last few posts I have talked about some societal taboos: addiction (my best friend’s death) and sleep (my struggle with narcolepsy). The blogs were about taking ownership over my past/present. That is beautiful. Speaking to problems that go unsaid are bound to make some people uncomfortable. That’s the risk I took. For others, it is a source of inspiration and hope.
For a brief moment I regretted how much personal information I had shared, and then I reminded myself of how people responded. Some of these people were strangers to me, others were people I grew up with.
A friend from back home said this:
…I am really proud of you. I guess I am stuck in a place with just enough will to survive, without enough strength to live and without enough courage to die.
We talked about addiction at great length. I shared with her the events leading up to my recovery and how life continued to get worse. Now, I can’t fathom living another way. It took me a few years to build a life that I was unwilling to trade for a drink or a drug. It took time to not want to escape. My story is about acceptance.
This semester I was fortunate to attend a conference where I got to connect with other artists with narcolepsy. The narcolepsy community has been incredibly receptive to me. We are constantly sharing and exchanging ideas with each other and inspiring one another. They encourage me to embrace an unconventional lifestyle and they give me perspective that I do contribute to society in my own way.
A few weeks back we took pictures of our creative spaces. What does your creative space look like? My creative chaos takes over the house sometimes.
Back on Vancouver Island the LGBTQ community and their allies have been hugely influential to my personal transformation. They accepted me before I was able to accept myself. That’s also where I met my partner Kendall.
“So, we must work with constant devotion—lose ourselves in what is greater than
we are, in order to find ourselves. And we will mature, and some element will become visible incur work that comes from our innermost experience in life, something that no techniques, nor any amount of historical training or courses in “design” could ever foster, something that is our own, and unique. For if a thing
is conceived in the depths of our being, we will find a way to express it; it may
be crude and unskillful, but it will be honest and intelligible.” – Marguerite Wildenhain
A special thank you to all three local potters that allowed me to come and visit them in their studios. I have tremendous respect for all three of these artists. They all shared an enthusiasm about their work that is incredibly inspiring for me.
The struggle comes from what you want to make! -Mary Fox
It’s all been done before; we stand on the shoulders of giants. – Vic Duffhues
In school I dreamed about throwing.
Fantasy: to be in a room with a big mountain of clay! Just work and not have to interface with anyone. Be careful what you wish for. – Darrel Hancock