Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Craft (as in handcraft) (02/08/07)
TITLE: What the Clay Chose
By cindy yarger
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From the beginning He talked to me. When He first put me on the wheel He told me that I was no longer just a clump of clay. I was now a work in progress. It was not set in stone as to what I would become. I could have a say so. Me, the little clump of clay, free to chose.
He told me that I could think hard on it and with a smile He added that I should not be all serious. I looked around His workroom and glanced upon a wide array of pieces. Stately, tall, and proud; beautiful, delicate, and intricate; common, useful, and essential, which should be my choice?
Fame wound a daydream in my thoughts so I ventured to speak on this. He scratched His stubbled chin and said that it could be done. It would not be natural to me so He would have to bolster me up. In doing so He would take from my greater strengths to add to my lesser. He said that it might hurt a bit as the natural was re-routed and in time I would wear down. I asked to think some more and He nodded His assent.
Strength flitted next across my tongue and so it was let out. The Potter simply shook His head and said it could not be. There was a tiny line through me that with strength would only crack. Nothing could be done. It saddened me and I could see that He felt it too, yet, what He said in “try again” gave me hope once more.
I took a lighter stance this time and asked for “comical”. He laughed out loud and clapped His hands, resounding “yes indeed! This shall be one element of what you will become but it is not yet the essence of all that you can be.”
Encouraged by this yes of His, I looked around again. I had a new light in my eye I think that He put there. With this light I could see a joy embedded deep within several of the pieces. This I wanted more than all and I couldn’t even say it.
“Ah…” He said as He heard me pause. “A good choice you have made, in fact it is the best. To get this joy you long for most is the hardest choice of all. It only comes to those who choose ‘yielded’ as their form.”
Thus as this clodded clump of clay looked to the Potter’s eye, I stated clearly as the choice was mine “yielded, to the Master’s choice, am I.”
The Potter took me as a clump of clay and His hands began to shape. As He worked He whistled out His tune, “well done, well done, well done.”
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