Beauty

     My mother and I were having a conversation over spring break about an art class I attended during my childhood.   I didn't particularly excel in the arts, but through the years, my different teachers would look down at the piece I had created and smile, encouraging me to continue practicing.  Most months, I would look over to the right and peak a glance at my neighbors artwork and then look back at mine and grimace a little bit.  If drawing was involved, I found myself to be a master at stick-men and women.  But my favorite classes were always on the wheel.  There is something calming in the soft whirring of the pottery wheel, the cool clay beneath your hands, and the water that inevitably dripped from my arms.  I loved the shaping process, first pulling the clay up and then pushing it back down until the base was ready and I was ready to begin creating.  I always see pottery as a picture of every individuals journey through life.  We are all shaped different, and sometimes when we have just about figured life out, something happens and we have to adjust to fit this experience into our own lives.  I think this picture sticks out because growing up I always heard of the biblical story of the potter who, when something went wrong with his pot, he just changed the pot to work the best way he could.  

     After discussing Signs and Symbols on Monday, I realized that while the story could say one thing to me, it might speak differently to another individual and that I just have to analyze things according to how they best speak to me.  As I write, I have to laugh a little bit.  The idea of looking at things differently always makes me think of storms.  One of my friends and I have been unsuccessfully arguing our view on storms for many years, especially thunderstorms.  My experience with storms has left me with a bitter taste.  Whenever there is a thunderstorm, I am immediately reminded of a time period where my dad's radio would go off at ungodly hours, calling him to fight another wildland fire.  This as well as the pain lightening has caused to family members and friends has given me almost a phobia of thunderstorms.  My friend on the other hand, has watched storms with her family and been enthralled with the sheer power such a storm has.  Just because we don't agree on how we feel about these storms, doesn't make one of us right and the other wrong.  We have just had our own life experiences that make us different people. 

Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lange

    Without these different interpretations, though, we wouldn't have the inventors, dreamers, artists, writers, any name you wish to give them.  The picture coming to mind for me right now is one by Dorothea Lange.   The mother's expression shows that life has dealt her with experiences she will never forget, as well as hardships that seem impossible to bear. But then this brings us to Autumn's blog and how we need to find beauty in the things that seem the saddest and most heartbreaking.  My mom once told me that hardships are sent our way to make us better people, maybe that is the beauty in the pain because we hope in the end that it will make us into a person better than we now are.    I know this might seem a bit redundant and breaking off from by detective work, but it seems nice to reflect on the things we talk about it class to make it sink in a little more for me.