This is a blog about my personal journey. My Mud Metamorphosis. My process of transformation through clay, cards and chaos.
Here is the story of clay.
I was, and still am, under many internal illusions. Illusions about both myself and the world around me. But at core, illusions about myself. I have fervently walked paths that were not my own, not guided by my true inner fires. I did not see myself. I entirely internalised goals I felt others had for me – parents, society, my ancestors, the world – I saw my life as in service to external needs, what I perceived others to need of me. I strove, I made great efforts, I struggled.
I had no idea how deeply misconceived my aims were, no idea that my feelings of struggle were messages, warning signs – ‘Stop striving towards external goals! Look within and use your inner fires to propel you!’ – my body and soul screamed, I trod on, furrowed brow, jaw set, eyes to the distant horizon, harsh winds pushing me back, a heavy load wearing me down, I trod on.
There has always been a voice within me. A voice that knows what to do. It was locked away so deeply, it had been so denied, that I could no longer recognise it. I could only hear it as an un-locatable, overwhelming feeling of sadness, frustration, fear. Feelings that felt unjustifiable, what had I really suffered to produce such feelings? So I pushed them away, hid them, clung to narratives of victimhood, injustice, to make these feelings comprehensible.
I began peeling away the layers to uncover this voice, this inner fire, about 10 years ago. In the initial stages I began connecting with myself physically, connecting with my body, my sensations, my feelings, learning to read the road, learning of the existence of a road that was not intellectual, not theoretical, not external. Learning that I have inbuilt guidance systems for this road.
This was the first game changer. I learnt energetic and intuitive healing arts, I began to use my body again, I opened channels through deep meditation. I did this all fervently, furrowed brow, with the aims of healing the world in mind. I would occasionally stop to smell flowers, laugh and dance, open and connect, then I would get back to my striving path and push on, struggle.
Around 6 years after this process began I met my partner, my support, my love. He gave me the space and safety I needed to open up my sexuality and start to really see how it had been blocked, denied, caged, twisted, another piece of the puzzle beginning to be brought to light.
A year later we were living far away from everyone and everything I knew and I was unable to continue working in service of others. Initially I strove and tried and battled to be allowed to slit my wrists and pour my blood out in the service of others. But eventually I was helped to realise that I am an artist, a creator, that my time of service was over.
I found clay. I loved clay, I loved making, I loved using my body to make, I loved everything about the process, I loved the gifts of learning that the many cracks, breaks, mistakes offered. I loved creating in full awareness of the possibility of destruction. I worked incredibly hard on my art, my craft, labouring in the heat and the cold, sanding the skin from my fingers, twisting my back in concentration. I loved every moment of it, none of it was a struggle, it fed my internal fires, fed my soul.
If I felt a pull away from my work to serve the needs of others I would resent it and say no, I put up strong boundaries around myself as a potter. I was in service only to my internal guidance, focused. I was not pushed or pulled by my perceptions of the needs of others. For the first time I really did not care what anyone else thought of my work, I cared only about the process of working. Clay formed the chrysalis in which I could connect with myself as a creator, an artist, and transform.
This is my Mud Metamorphosis.