23 August 2011

The Day I Cannot Shape

My sister and her husband travel deep into Chihuahua, to Mata Ortiz, to import clay pots. These new vessels echo ancient traditions of pots shaped long ago. Collectors seek them. We have one, and it’s beautiful and fragile. I'm proud of my sister's enterprising spirit. I'm proud of the pot. I like to show it to guests.

I work with my body. I can still forget it’s fragile. I do Tai Chi to be limber and sense a gentle healing. I know the people and technology of the medical arts and sciences can analyze and diagnose, and together we can mend my cracks, dis-eases, and strains.

I love some with whom I have strained relations. I know others with diseased bodies. I possess cracked objects. We all feel cracks and strains, and dis-ease, which the promise of medicine, science and technology, can no longer mend. People dear to me die. I am humbled. Am I prepared for technologies that cannot mend?

The abundance of resources with which I am blessed permits me to shape change, which will come. Am I prepared to let go of my resources? I know my material things will not last. I see the passing of my possessions. Am I prepared someone new does the ways of an old tradition in a new way? Am I prepared to accept a new day I cannot shape?

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