“A clay pot sitting in the sun will always be a clay pot. It has to go through the white heat of the furnace to become porcelain. ”
– Mildred W. Struven
I need a show of hands, who thinks time is messing with us??
I mean really!
I feel as if I’ve lived about five lifetimes INSIDE this one ragged, crazy life!!
Clay that has been molded, then flattened out, then re molded,
over, and over, and over again.
A thousands suns have fired me into porcelain.
I’ve been broken, then glued.
I’ve been chipped…repeatedly.
I’m too fragile for everyday sometimes,
Too fancy.
But porcelain is shiny and it’s pretty.
And remarkably durable.
And I’ve lasted.
People used to be dead by 50!
These days we’re just hitting our stride by then.
In Kabbalah, that wonderful form of Jewish mysticism,
You don’t even get possession of life’s secrets until after 40.
What a gype, you were allowed all the answers,
then you died?
I don’t know about you, but the past me’s
bear little resemblance to the current me.
I can follow their trajectory to see how I got here,
but honestly, it could have gone any number of other ways!
Sometimes I’m right back in the 19 year old me’s skin,
looking thru her eyes, and she feels familiar, I can relate to her thoughts.
Other times, I can look at a picture of me at 26, 35, 47 and a complete
stranger stares back.
What I know for sure, is I’ve been, we’ve all been,
given the opportunity to take our time to evolve this time.
We’ve all lived several lives inside just this one.
And I for one, was not trusted with life’s secrets until after 50.
I didn’t have the gravitas, I couldn’t be trusted.
Not until the clay was molded into porcelain yet once again,
this time using all the broken pieces.
