I have been sorting through a kiln load of glazed pots. It was filled with experiments of a red clay mix and slip ideas and glaze thickness.
I have cleaned the bottoms of plates and stared at them like books written in a foreign language. Taking photographs for an upcoming exhibition was like unlocking stuck doors.
On a wet April first I walk and pick daffodils and put them in new vases as answers to questions.
My
daughter a college freshman has been with me for two weeks. I have revisited
things I read at her age and she called today back at school struggling with questions
for next year. I was reminded of letters to a young poet. And find its still applicable.
"Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day."
Letters to a young poet by Rainer Maria Rilke
