The month of August was about taking time for others and family. I was not able to work in the pots much as I went to spend time with my mother, who became ill and had to spend time in the hospital. Between family and work I was not able to get very much done in the pottery.

Cobwebs fill my water pail, the clay dries in my wheel basin, and forms long needing handles to be mugs, now sit half-finished bone dry lined up on the shelves. Little mice make straw nests in the large updraft kilns that sit unfired and mud daubers pack the holes of the burner ports. The windows in the pottery shed are dark, and the wood shelves are dusty and bare. I was rude towards myself, asking who would miss me if I were gone, an important question when going through some dip.

Groaning in pain at myself for not getting the work done, but I still need to make the right decisions about what my attention and time are spent on. Family is very important to me, so things were put on hold. Resistance, laughing, gathers in the trees like giant looming vultures, as harpies, ready to swoop down and steal away any hard work and effort I put in. What a horrible place and situation to be in. If I live to be 86, I only have 13318 days left to tell my story to the world through pottery and handmade. What a terrible waste of time and effort to only be distracted from creating work that matters.

Yet, there might be some green sprouts inside me. Like a seed breaking apart the huge mountain rocks by its fragile leafy roots, maybe I could also sprout a creation today. Perhaps I can start something new to break the rocky crag of resistance I seem to be chained to. Perhaps today is the day to break the Sisyphus cycle and be a potter, creating work that matters for people who care.

There is a tree in the yard where I grew up. The little house, built out of lumber from my grandfather’s barn, has stood there for almost 50 years now. At the base of the tree, there was a split and the one tree grew for years as two. The tree came from my grandfather’s place on my mother’s side. The tree was a maple I brought back as a kid. I tried to get it to sprout. I threw it away, thinking it was dead, until it came up and my dad transplanted it. I had to climb that tree yesterday to strap both sides together so each side could support the other in the wind. That was the first job my dad had me do after my mom came home from the hospital.

I saw the tree as a metaphor for my parents’ enduring love and determination as they aged. Now that Dad needs help caring for Mom, who is 89 and has difficulty walking, we’ve had some challenges. Mom recently spent three weeks in the hospital after fainting. They discovered one blocked artery in her neck, while the other was clear. Dad visited her every day, and my sister and I also visited regularly. Although Mom was looking forward to coming home, I was unsure about how things would go, but I wanted to give them a chance.

The tree was perfect for climbing, with branches positioned just right, as if a clear path to the top was intentional. “I need the strap to go a little higher than that larger branch right there, then around the other side. Be sure to tie it tightly so it won’t split. Do you remember how to climb trees?” Dad asked. “I think so,” I said, grabbing the first branch and swinging up like old times. “I just won’t look down.” I climbed up higher than the house. I did look down some, just like old times. The tree swayed gently in the breeze. The chickadees sang in protest as I lashed the rope. I hoped it would hold.

We are connected by many things, some stronger than others. In my family, we were all close. I was able to help Dad move furniture and put together the small hospital bed Mom would need. We rearranged the living area to make it easier for them both. The health aides called to schedule their times for therapy with Mom. I was proud of how well they worked together. Dad had to be trained not to be so rough when giving care. Being a farmer and a butcher his whole life, he was used to handling things like hay bales or a slab of beef.

I’m sure there will be strong winds that will come and the old tree will creak and sway. Dad may need to call us, and we may need to stay with him or give advice. Things will move a little more slowly. Mom and Dad are happy together for today. They figure out creative ways to overcome obstacles. I worry about some of the ways, but I have a feeling no matter what happens everything will be just fine. I am making about six pots a day and ordered cinder blocks for the wood kiln while helping to keep the tie that binds, strong with my family.

Dealing with the challenges in life while practicing and creating art can cause us to feel a little depressed. These might be dips. Dips can be challenging and can leave us wondering if the path we took is the correct one or not. Sometimes, it might be important to observe what is happening to us in the dip and to be aware of our surroundings. When we are at the lowest point of the dip, that might be where we find the newfound mission and inspiration to keep pushing on. This find may not happen every day but can happen often enough to get us through the dip”

Many times, it is only through great suffering and the willingness to keep going that we might overcome hardships. In mythology and epics, heroes travel through the underworld to bring back information and to change those around them and how they are perceived. Both Odysseus and Aeneas in the epics of Homer and Virgil, travel to the underworld to gain insight into what the future might have in store for them.

The underworld can be a frightening place, but facing it means confronting reality instead of avoiding difficult situations. Don’t let the dark aspects of life prevent you from seeing the potential that the future holds. It’s easy to become consumed by the challenges of the underworld and start believing that it’s the only path. However, it’s in these difficult moments that you can gain profound insights about yourself and others.

With my mother feeling better, I can now get back to making pots and maybe catch up on things I got behind on. I’ll be working on the kiln and also attending another wood fire with Imagine Peace Pottery in September. I also need to start promoting and making work for the Susquehanna Country Artist tour and my Fall shows in 2024 on The Pumpkin Trail. Also, an update is sorely needed, and I need to get work to the gallery at Slanted Art in Montrose, PA, and to the art shop The Blue Heron in Wyalusing, PA.

I hope you, the readers, had a fantastic summer. Thanks for reading this newsletter.

Written By,

Alford Wayman

Artist/Owner

Creek Road Pottery LLC