26 April 2012
Hello dear viewers... I apologize for my absence of late. There were a lot of events happening and I just couldn't bring myself to post at the end of each busy day.
I've also been going through a bowl emptying phase. "What's that?" might you think... I have this thing about bowls. All kinds of bowls, handmade in particular. Big. Small. Tiny. Cracked. Useful pieces of art. Bowls represent an openness to receive. A certain kind of vulnerability. The Tibetan Monks would go out each day with an empty bowl and just sit. Whatever was placed in their bowl that day should be enough. Sometimes they would get rice to eat. Sometimes money. Occasionally, someone's trash. But whatever ended up in there was what they were intended to have for that day - and they were grateful. Could we westerners be grateful for nothing or someone else's trash? In our western culture, bowls have become catch basins for the 'stuff' in our lives. Keys. Mail. Receipts. Trinkets we aren't quite sure what to do with. Then, at some point, those bowls are full to overflowing. They can't hold anymore and we need to sort it all out. What to toss? What to keep? Our lives can get like that, too. We hold on to so much. Things and memories, both pleasant and heart wrenching. Anxieties over the yet-to-happen we cannot bring ourselves to stop thinking about - all taking us away from living in the present. Then, at some point, we are full to overflowing with no room for more. We can start to feel tethered. Worn down. Hollow. Yet, we still clinging on to things that have served its purpose, too afraid to simply bless the experience, thank it, and let it go...
So, probably for these past couple of years - since turning 50 basically - I have been ardently emptying my bowls. Tossing those receipts, keys to who knows what, broken trinkets. Forgiving the heartaches. Remembering with gratitude the wonderful times before gently letting even those go, too.... How else can one receive the new blessings and experiences coming our way if there is no room? I have lots of bowls to refill and part of the excitement is seeing what new experiences come my way. Whatever it is, I know I am meant to experience it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I hope these weeks have been kind to you. May all your bowls be filled with what you need most.
This is a mortero, or Native American grinding hole. Typically, you find these near a food source. Usually there are clusters of them on the rock surface. This solo hole is on a small granite slab sheltered behind several scrub oaks, pinions, and junipers. It is cool and shaded here. Can you imagine the activity of grinding acorns and berries for meals? Possibly visiting. Chatting. Reminding children to stay close? It would take a LOT of grinding to make such a hole in granite.
All images and text © Diana Shay Diehl 2012
I've also been going through a bowl emptying phase. "What's that?" might you think... I have this thing about bowls. All kinds of bowls, handmade in particular. Big. Small. Tiny. Cracked. Useful pieces of art. Bowls represent an openness to receive. A certain kind of vulnerability. The Tibetan Monks would go out each day with an empty bowl and just sit. Whatever was placed in their bowl that day should be enough. Sometimes they would get rice to eat. Sometimes money. Occasionally, someone's trash. But whatever ended up in there was what they were intended to have for that day - and they were grateful. Could we westerners be grateful for nothing or someone else's trash? In our western culture, bowls have become catch basins for the 'stuff' in our lives. Keys. Mail. Receipts. Trinkets we aren't quite sure what to do with. Then, at some point, those bowls are full to overflowing. They can't hold anymore and we need to sort it all out. What to toss? What to keep? Our lives can get like that, too. We hold on to so much. Things and memories, both pleasant and heart wrenching. Anxieties over the yet-to-happen we cannot bring ourselves to stop thinking about - all taking us away from living in the present. Then, at some point, we are full to overflowing with no room for more. We can start to feel tethered. Worn down. Hollow. Yet, we still clinging on to things that have served its purpose, too afraid to simply bless the experience, thank it, and let it go...
So, probably for these past couple of years - since turning 50 basically - I have been ardently emptying my bowls. Tossing those receipts, keys to who knows what, broken trinkets. Forgiving the heartaches. Remembering with gratitude the wonderful times before gently letting even those go, too.... How else can one receive the new blessings and experiences coming our way if there is no room? I have lots of bowls to refill and part of the excitement is seeing what new experiences come my way. Whatever it is, I know I am meant to experience it. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I hope these weeks have been kind to you. May all your bowls be filled with what you need most.
This is a mortero, or Native American grinding hole. Typically, you find these near a food source. Usually there are clusters of them on the rock surface. This solo hole is on a small granite slab sheltered behind several scrub oaks, pinions, and junipers. It is cool and shaded here. Can you imagine the activity of grinding acorns and berries for meals? Possibly visiting. Chatting. Reminding children to stay close? It would take a LOT of grinding to make such a hole in granite.
All images and text © Diana Shay Diehl 2012
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