Sunday, July 13, 2008
12:13:00 AM EDT
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
I have a friend, David, who's a potter. I watched him work one day. I saw him brutally cut off a chunk of clay, thump it on the table and then throw it on a wheel. Then, while it was spinning within an inch of it's life he wet his hands and started strangling it. He forced it out of it's natural shape and then, as if that wasn't enough, he stuck his thumbs in it and then his fingers and carved it even more into something round, Then he poked and scraped down into it's innards with some fiendish instruments, covered it all over with some sticky stuff and tucked into an oven that was hotter than hell. When it finally came out it was a beautiful, delicate, gentle bowl asking to be filled with the elixir of life.
I don't know about you, but I have been cut and thumped by the meanness of life, thrown on the wheel and spun into confusion, strangled with poverty, pushed and squeezed with hard work until I was rebuilt and reformed, poked and scraped by lies and betrayals, glazed over with tears and baked in the oven of hellish experiences. And when they finally took me out I had a joyous smile on my face
DB - The Vagabond.