I don’t like a lot of fuss. I just have a wet trim, but it’s a good one.
The hairdresser is tired, almost to the point of tears. She needs a rest, a holiday.
Lydia is enjoying the return of sunshine in our back yard. She’s been an absolute delight to be with today. I’ve given her lots of “rub-a-dub” massages and she’s loving them.
I’ve booked in to a half-day retreat at the Buddhist Centre on Saturday – overcoming anger and frustration. I’ve also booked to go to the Hepworth Gallery in Wakefield on Sunday where they have a Ceramics Fair. So, a good weekend lined up and an easy day tomorrow.
Oh, sleep it is a gentle thing …
My book, Train your dog; train your mind – positive reinforcement for humans and canines – is now available in paperback: https://amzn.eu/d/eQ2sWjU.
The Kindle version is currently for sale at £3.99 on a Kindle Countdown deal https://amzn.eu/d/99yW3Qk.
“Tree of Love”, my latest piece, ready for the Saltaire Makers Fair at the end of May #saltaireinspired #saltairemakersfair
I’m struggling a lot with fear at the moment. Fear of the future; fear of uncertainty; fear of not being able to cope with whatever life challenges lie ahead.
I’ve coped with a lot of life challenges in the past but I was younger then! I used to put my head down, put my back into it, prioritise and push through. Now, in my 69th year, I know I can no longer do what I used to do. I have to do things differently; see things differently; find an approach to working through my fear that is in tune with my more mature status and circumstances.
I know that I have to believe that everything will be – is – OK. I also know that a lot of what I fear is in my head. I don’t live in a war zone or on the streets.
But when you’ve had to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and start again, and again, and again, it’s hard to believe that the pattern isn’t on repeat.
I’ve been working hard to learn my lessons, to change how I see and do things and to live in the here and now. The important thing is not to let the fear take over. This can be easier said than done, but I’m working on it!
The featured ceramic piece includes some Kintsugi repair work. This is a Japanese method for making a feature of a repair instead of trying to hide it. The idea is that the piece is even more beautiful than it was before.
“Flowing Form”, stoneware glazed with Teracolor ‘Tourmaline’
Forty five years ago I completed a degree in Ceramics. It wasn’t until a couple of years ago, though, that I started working with clay again.
The intervening years have been challenging, to say the least.
As a teenager with undiagnosed mental health difficulties including an eating disorder and depression, I struggled to get a foot hold on life and eventually came crashing down.
For the last thirty years I’ve largely been focused on getting back going again, pushing through, surviving.
A sense of well-being isn’t easy to establish or maintain when your mind and mood are volatile, like mine can be, always trying to pull me back to a pivotal point of trauma and grief that have been so hard to leave behind.
I do try to make the most of each day, and be thankful for what I’ve got – which is a lot – but when tiredness takes over from positive thinking, it can feel almost overwhelmingly bleak.
Sometimes it’s best to do nothing, rest into it and let it pass. I also find that, if I can get absorbed in making something with clay, I can start to come through the low mood to a brighter sense of self and life.
I have a table at home that I have set up with basic tools and materials, but I find it most uplifting when I go to a studio where I can spend a morning or an afternoon with others. We are all focused and industrious but there together, and it has a special kind of effect, which always leaves me feeling so much better at the end of a session than I felt when I got there.
It isn’t easy to pick up the pieces of your life and start again, but picking up a piece of clay is now a part of my ongoing journey of recovery and reclamation.
One aspect of depression that is a constant struggle is finding something – anything – to build up my self-esteem. To a certain extent I’ve learnt to live with it, knowing that the worst moments pass if I rest up and tune in to parts of my brain that I’ve trained, using positive processes such as meditation, and affirmations: “I choose to be peaceful and calm; everything is unfolding as it should.”
I’ve identified my own truths and ‘root causes’ of past problems, and arrived at a point – in a very long and arduous journey – where I felt I didn’t need to have any aspects of these verified or vindicated by any one or any thing. However, I have found it helpful recently to have discovered the work of Imi Lo. I went through her book – Emotional Sensitivity and Intensity: how to manage intense emotions as a highly sensitive person (John Murray Learning, 2018) – highlighting many passages that I felt applied directly to me. I urge anyone who has been deemed ‘over-sensitive’ and felt alienated one way or another as a result, to read and take hope from this book.
The author states in a key point (p.45):
We are not here to dismiss the validity of all mental health diagnoses, or the importance of appropriate treatment in the case of severe psychological trauma. But it is important to examine the root of your suffering: often, it may be a reflection of your natural tendencies, and a result of being misunderstood, rather than as a sign of defectiveness. We must be extra cautious to not reinforce any restrictive categories, diagnoses and stigma around emotional intensity.
In the final chapter of her book, Imi Lo identifies possibilities for tapping in to our creative potential.
It’s possible to be creative in many ways – not just through the arts. I’ve been as creative as I could be at different stages in my life and through many different types of work. However, having arrived at the point when I’m now retired, giving me a new-found freedom that I relish, I’m loving being able to re-immerse myself in solving problems associated with art and design, construction and concepts.
A significant difference that I’ve noticed between how I feel about work that I produce now, compared with work that I produced when I was younger, is that now I can feel a sense of satisfaction about having produced it. I can ‘own it’, take pride in it, see it for what it is in the context of my life; a life that I’m glad to have.
My self-esteem still falls by the wayside sometimes, but – generally speaking – I’m in a much better place than I’ve ever been. It takes a bit of getting used to, but I’m determined to make the most of it, knowing that I am – after all ‘gifted’ rather than the waste of space I often felt myself to be.
1978 was the year I graduated with a degree in Ceramics from Bristol Polytechnic.
I’d reached out to art in my teens as a way of asserting a direction, without knowing where that direction might take me. It was driven by some deep-rooted instinct; an instinct which for a long time I thought had failed me. But it hadn’t.
As it’s turned out, my life has taken many “twists and turns, and loops and leaps”, most of which have left me struggling to find a foothold. Finally, however, I feel I am on firm ground, and astonished to find myself turning back to working with clay, after a break of over 40 years.
What’s even more astonishing is that I’m not only loving working with the medium, I’ve got ideas coming into my head from goodness knows where. I’m not having to push myself just to produce something, anything, as I did when I was at college (although I was proud of what I did produce in the end; it was no easy feat, considering the complexity of mental health problems I was dealing with).
Art didn’t work as a therapy for me when I was younger; the damage went too deep and I had to find ways to dig it out – just like clay has to be dug out. What I’ve got now is malleable and mouldable in whatever way I choose. I can be creative in any way or ways that suit me; working with clay or words; working with my life.
I hope my pots can be poetic; and that my poetry will continue to be potty.
Solid and fluid at the same time. This one’s long gone; I’m making others now.
Glad About 
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