working on my day off

Except for the one over the work table, the lights are off.  Given the orientation of the building, sunlight is of no help to me right now.  In this exact moment, i sit in a puddle of illumination.  When i inevitably wander upstairs to write, those lights will stay off as well – except for the one next to the couch that provides just enough brightness for me to see the lines onto which i scribble. This is not the type of day when i will sit at a desk and work on an aged computer with the letters worn off the keys. i can tell because the intrusion of technology involved in writing this blog entry exhausts me. Instead, the pad and paper will dominate my writing.  Of course, there must be throwing in between the words.  There are bowls to be made.

The music that is playing right now – The Lark Ascending – is not something i would play if i were expecting customers.  Nor are the other items on this particular playlist: Jacqueline Du Pres, David Hykes and The Harmonic Choir, and the Anonymous 4.  This is the music that soothes my soul; my listening feels like a ritual.  These are the melodies and harmonies of solitude. They open me up with the reminder of humanity caught in voice, instrument and crescendo.

doorNone of the flags or signs are out, except for the lonely “open” beside the closed entrance to the studio+showroom.  At least the door is unlocked.

As usual, the half a minute walk across the driveway occurred because of other people’s desires:  bisque another potter needs to pick up; a friend wants to be taught how to use a program on her computer; i have a commission that needs to be finished. Even so, the commission would not have been enough on its own.  Like most of my days off for the past two months, i want to be curled up in the house, under blanket, throwing myself into worlds of my own invention, writing until my hand cannot hold a pen any longer.  Today, with this nearly unbearable aching, sniffling weariness, i would have been even more likely to surrender ambition for rest.

And yet, do not mistake this for a complaint. This is my joy.  i remind myself, as i gaze about the mess and chaos, this is what i love most. Perhaps it is the music floating about me, or the softness lent by the lack of light, but i am at peace and aligned within these four walls like i am nowhere else. There is a different energy within these walls when i am alone; bliss comes easier, swells within me faster, until i overflow.

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