One of the wonderful things about being back at Ghost Ranch this time around is with being an instructor instead of a student, I can visit other class rooms and gain insight and inspiration into other mediums.

This afternoon I was graciously given access to the creative writing group led by Pam Uschuk. I spent time writing a small piece about a pivotal point in my life where everything changed from one moment to the next. When she prompted the class to write I could instantly spot where that took place.

………..And he said, “Lucy, there is one thing you must remember…….the clay chooses you.”

I had agreed, to my initial chagrin, to attend a three, 2 hour workshop series on hand building ceramics. After almost 20 years as a massage therapist, I thought that I would have an affinity for clay. With wheel throwing, I couldn’t have been more wrong. I left class feeling frustrated, disappointed and dejected. How could I have been so wrong??? Returning home from these initial classes in North Carolina, I vowed that I wasn’t cut out for clay. I had been mistaken in thinking that I had the touch.

What I didn’t know at the time was that my life long love affair with mud and earth had another as of yet unearthed avenue for me to travel. When I agreed to take the hand building class from my dear friend, Worley, I thought I was helping him out with his studio and gallery. Again, I was wrong.

The simple truth of the matter is that I was waiting to be re-born into an ancient family of potters. With the first coil of my very first pot, I was transported. I was touched. I was chosen. And when he said those fateful words, I knew I was the one. I knew, sitting there in this beautiful, centuries old building, filled with so much past that it wrapped around me like a soft blanket, my clay ancestors had come for me. I, their apprentice, was willing to go.

And so, this evening, for the first time since arriving at the ranch, I returned to the studio; to the clay; to my sanctuary. No matter where I travel or what I choose to do with my time, I always come back to clay. I bring all that I have learned back to this earthy mother and lay the blessings at her feet. Because as much as the clay has chosen me, I have chosen clay.


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