the work of my hands
a great big wish for us all this new year
Sometimes I’ll watch my hands as they pinch a vase, forming the walls and smoothing the neck. I’m in awe of their seemingly innate movements, their relationship with the clay that seems to exists outside of me.
I think of all the work my hands did this past year.
They clipped Cooper’s leash around his neck over a thousand times for walks through parks and up mountains and along beaches and down dunes and also around our special little block in Brooklyn.
They washed fresh berries and peeled hard boiled eggs and spread almond butter and honey on bread for my partner to eat for lunch.
They smoothed the creases forming on my face, the ones there because of all of my laughs and thoughts and concerns and grief and great joy - all the feelings from my lived experiences - and made me wonder if I should hide them from the world and then I decided not to.
They shoveled earth on a casket that held my grandmother and then placed roses atop.
They held the teeny fingers of my new niece and carried her around the yard when she cried, and stroked her soft, rosy cheeks.
They wrote love notes and made snowballs and cut my own hair too short and learned to sew.
They took a risk on themselves and filled out paperwork to start a real, true business and trusted the work would come.
They shaped hundreds of pounds of clay into functional works of art that found homes with countless people I don’t know and many, many that I do.
They opened a door to a ceramics community in New York City, with supportive humans and space for wheels and kilns and pottery tools.
They drew lines that together made up logos for small businesses and invitations for special events and sweet gifts for loved ones.
They taught other people’s hands how to shape clay into objects and how healing it can be to take time to make something, learn something, feel connected to something.
They typed the thoughts swirling in my head onto a screen to share with you, here in this space they created.
Wishing all our hands a meaningful year ahead.
This week I’m in the desert of Arizona where I begin each year by creating a small collection of pottery in the same space my great grandmother created her art (here’s a photo of me here last year!). Promise to share more from my time here, and my collection of work, in time.
It is also my birthday this week and my biggest sale of the year in celebration! 16% off my entire site, including my mindful pottery subscription, boob mugs, and bespoke illustrations! No code needed!! In gratitude for another year.
My studio photo this week is the view from where I wrote this newsletter, on the road from California to Arizona where we were welcomed with rainbows.
The personal peace toolkit is your own catalog of accessible mindfulness to fold into your life in 30 seconds, 5 minutes, and 10 minutes, bringing a little more thoughtful calm to your days.
This week is focused on self-love and intentional reflection during a time when reflection can feel overwhelming (including a look at my more / less list for 2023!).
If you’re not already a paid subscriber, I hope you consider joining and building some peace and reflection into your life with me <3
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