What can we be nowadays but melancholy? The news of the war are so dire. And yet they were dire when the Libyans were being decimated chemically and otherwise. But this time we see it sitting to dinner among our goods and chapels, our family, in our own safe shelter, precarious as an egg shell...
I was in Sheffield at the Ceramics Festival this weekend and the joy of seeing my friendly faces was indescribable. Literally, because each person comes with the shortest message of hope in their eyes, the questioning, the eagerness fo enquiry. A few are such regular visitors, our conversation continues from year to year, and it makes me wonder, will it always matter, even after I no longer go and exhibit there? Or they are lost or move away? It will always matter to me, those friendly eyes, those smart insightful comments, those questions and above all the sharing of hope and insight. I don't tell them of feeling lost so often - (you know who you are! my secret is out... lol). I long to stop this pilgrimage of ideas. I long to find the central core of my search and stand firm and do what I really mean t do. First, I need to continue work on ships. I need not actually work on anything else because ships can stand for all sorts of life stories that shake me and always have done. This time I need to make the Covid ship, while I wait for the Ukraine ship to arrive in my cognitive brain. Covid did not arrive in a junk with ribbed sails or domed shelter. And yet, it did come from Wuhan... I'll give this some thought.
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