It happened when I was shaping a ball of clay into a prayer bowl. Rev. Pamela Nowell, potter and artist extraordinaire, came to the seminary classes to teach us how to make these sacred bowls. And, we were blessed.
As I began to work with my ball of clay, I first noticed my mind wanting a full accounting of just how I was doing with this new experience. Thank you, mind, for sharing. Now, kindly go sit. A short time passed and then a subtle shift. I found myself, softly, watching the bowl take form, coming alive, in response to my probing fingers and turning palms. More time passed and, then, at some point, time, like me, stood still. I began to sense a kind of silent whispering as the bowl now seemed to be guiding me, letting me know with each stroke exactly what it needed to bring itself to life. No, more than that, to become the purest expression of what it already knew itself to be.
Soon, in a moment I couldn’t predict, the bowl was done. Complete. I tenderly placed it in the box along side the others. Standing back, I noticed it didn’t look particularly special in relation to the other bowls nor did it appear any more, or less, perfect. Instead, it felt to me, simply, supremely content…to just be.
And, my heart bowed.
Later I thought how each of us is like those bowls. If the bowls can know what they may be, why can’t we? After all, just like me with the ball of clay, we too have a Potter. And, perhaps, just perhaps, our Beloved Potter, who created us and planted within us the seed, that yearning impulse of what we may be, is holding us waiting patiently for us to move, ever so slightly toward that very impulse, to then respond, shaping us toward the full expression of our destiny, what we already know ourselves to be.
And, perhaps in those moments, all creation bows in joy.
Praying as One.