October 13, 2012



A good day, a long one.

Up at 6:14, fully thirty-nine minutes after my alarm clock was supposed to have gone off.

Shower fast, grateful that I loaded the van with my pottery and table the night before.

Eat breakfast at a bad-for-my-digestion speed and I'm outta there.

Set up table with 35-degree fingers late-nervous-fast to be all ready just in time, and then - finally sit down.  On my wet camp chair.

Relax anyway.  (but, standing up).

Spend six hours on my feet (except for when I thought my camp chair had dried out, and tried it again...) smiling at people who mostly bought no pottery, but sometimes (thank you!!) did.  Memorize their faces, these people who loved my pots.

And eventually, visiting with my friends, neighbors, God-family, without glancing back at my table for customers, just looking into eyes and feeling spirits expand as they unload themselves of a little piece of who they are, trusting it into my hands.  Stand in that sun, warming my jeans, my hair.  Soak it up.  Soak it in deep.

The rush of the morning, the coming crush of evening's appointments, all fade in the sun, in the warm crowd of people, mingling souls.

: : :

"I wonder," wrote Dr. Frank Crane nearly a century ago, "if it is written just which souls, of all the millions, shall touch ours?  And each one whose personality impinges upon ours, even in the least, leaves some particles of flavor of himself upon us, and we upon him."

I believe it is.  And I believe that someday we will see the beautiful tapestry that has been woven of all the miscellaneous threads of our meetings.

I did some weaving today.

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