The Dragon slid quietly over the misty horizon as the Hare fled into the west, and a cold grey dawn marked the turning of the year...
A dragon saw our first new year in this house twelve years ago, and on new year's day I made the new stamp for this year's vessels. It is a smaller dragon than the last, and faces left instead of right, and so an imprint in the clay becomes a footstep in the sands of time. The dark cherry wood gleamed as I rubbed olive oil into its grain, beautiful in and of itself, as each step of any creative process should be...
It was a good day, a day of sharing with my family, a day to celebrate thirty years of marriage with my wife, and all the joy and sorrow on our journey together. But as the evening drew near, and I prepared to light the wood to heat the bath, the house began to shake...
The earthquake was long, and we waited outside till the house stopped swaying and the ground beneath our feet stopped moving. It was not so strong here, only a four perhaps, enough to knock a few things over, shake open the doors and open a few new cracks in the plaster walls, but it brought back memories of the destruction of 3/11 for us all. But we learned that others were not so fortunate, and, in the days since, the devastation in Ishikawa has become apparent. One friend in Wajima, a lacquerware artist, has lost everything, home and studio, and only has the clothes she stands up in, but gratefully neither she nor her husband were injured. I don't know how we can help her yet...
Our experiences of each day are unique to each of us, joy for some, tragedy for others, and it is hard to celebrate our personal triumphs in the face of other's suffering...yet it is these simple things which are important, even in difficult times, perhaps most of all then. In everything we make, in everything we do, we leave a little of ourselves. And our experiences, our moments of joy and beauty, become moments of joy and beauty for others. It is a journey that we take together.
