Psychotherapy: The Need to Knead
Kneading clay is pure therapy; not only for our souls but also for our tired arthritic hands.
Our world can be fresh with wonder and meaning when we bring something new into existence; something never seen before. We simply have to let our hands work their magic. I agree with Oliver Wendell Holmes‘s words, a mind, stretched to new ideas, never goes back to its original dimensions.
Most of us need to express ourselves the most when we feel we cannot. Nevertheless, once we do, we change forever for the better. It is the discomfort and lack of faith in our innate gifts that prevent us from the happiness and joy we want and need.
Those of us who have found the fountain of youth in our special purpose regret to sleep while the rest regret to wake not knowing their special purpose. Perhaps, living a joyful, successful life is just a matter of living the life we were meant to live.
I was not one of those instant successes you hear about when I began studying clay at college. My instructors never hailed me as a promising student of ceramics or sculpture. In fact, many, including my instructors, laughed at my beginning efforts.
I found that clay is nature’s cheapest and most abundant art supply. A malleable substance that can be molded into almost any shape with the surface remaining smooth and unbroken. Its best quality in my mind was its forgiving ways.
With clay, nothing was permanent until it was baked in a kiln. Clay allowed me to create images in three dimensions. I modeled pots, vases, and figures, turning them around and around in front of me on a lazy Suzanne. From every point of view, my hands worked to get out what was hidden. I used only a few sculpturing knives, brushes, and sponges. However, when I got excited, I used both my hands. Sculpting and modeling clay become pure therapy when God sets our pace.